


Freedom to Choose

by TheCowJumpedOverTheMoon



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: A teeny bit of angst, Adorable Connor, Bucket List, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor is a genuine sweetheart and I love him, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Drinking Games, Freedom, Gavin Reed makes a minor appearance, Hank Anderson Swears, Hank is a softie, Hank is super self-conscious as we all know, Heavy Drinking, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Hank Anderson, Protective Hank Anderson, References to Depression, Social Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Who doesn't though, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-11-09 05:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17995580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCowJumpedOverTheMoon/pseuds/TheCowJumpedOverTheMoon
Summary: Connor celebrates his new-found freedom by creating a bucket list of things he'd like to do, with some help from Hank. Will Connor begin to discover his humanity, and will Hank begin to understand what Connor really means to him?





	1. Chapter 1

"Alright Connor, you can let go now."

Hank glanced down at the thick head of chestnut artificial hair buried into his chest, and heard a gentle hum of acknowledgement muffled into his clothing.

"Connor. Come on, it's fuckin' freezing."

He felt the man pull away just slightly, his arms still firmly wrapped around him, plastic hands still tightly fisting the fabric at the back of his shirt. Deep, expressive eyes glanced up at him, 'puppy dog eyes' Hank often called them. He was finding it exceedingly difficult to say no when Connor batted his lashes.

"My apologies, Lieutenant Anderson." The android loosened his grip, taking a measured step back.

"S'okay. You were just actin' like you'd never had a hug before. I'm not rationing them." Hank found his voice gruffer than normal and he wondered if Connor had picked up on it. 

"I hadn't had a hug before. That was my first." Connor still spoke in that matter-of-fact way programmed by his creators, to 'blend in seamlessly with humans' he'd once told him. Hank still found himself caught off guard by his casual way of throwing out surprising information in such a calm and collected way, as though he were simply talking about the weather. It was unnerving.

"Huh. Well that explains it a little better. Never?"

"Never." Connor's expression was neutral, but Hank thought he saw the flicker of a smile beginning to creep its way through his programming. Or perhaps that was wishful thinking.

"So, what now? What've you got planned now you're a free man?" Hank quirked his head to the side slightly, pursing his lips and readjusting his stance.

"I've not decided yet. What does one do with newfound freedom when one has never really experienced freedom to begin with?" Connor voiced it like a question, although Hank wasn't certain whether or not it was rhetorical. He answered it anyway. 

"Well, what do you _want_ to do?"

"I don't _want_ to do anything, that's not how my programming works." Connor responded sharply, although his voice softened slightly and he spoke again. "I suppose there are things I am curious about."

"Like what?"

"Well, the hug was a first." Connor gestured to Hank. "And that was certainly interesting." His voice hung on that final word, and Hank found himself wondering about that until Connor spoke again. "Perhaps I should try things I haven't been able to do before. Things android were forbidden from doing."

"Hm, that could work. So human things, right?"

"Yes. Human things."

For a newly considered 'free being', Connor still sounded an awful lot like his programming. Although Connor had always expressed curiosity. Perhaps he was 'deviant' from the beginning after all.

"So your bucket list is gonna be a bunch of things humans can do but you couldn't, is that right?" Hank meant this as a rhetorical question, but he knew Connor would answer anyway.

"That is correct."

"So where are you gonna start?"

Connor was silent momentarily. If he was a human, Hank would assume he was pondering the question, ruminating over the idea. Knowing it was Connor, he knew his partner would be coming up with a multitude of different possibilities and compiling a list.

As if on queue, Connor spoke again. "There are two hundred thousand, nine hundred and eighty four laws forbidding androids from doing things. One hundred thousand and forty six of those were things that humans could do and androids could not. From that list, I have narrowed down to a potential list of six hundred and ninety five things I may consider trying."

Hank simply rolled his eyes. "Well, I guess you've got all the time in the world. But it doesn't have to be laws Connor, it can be...I don't know, social things. It wasn't a law for an android to not be allowed to hug someone. Aren't there things you'd like to try that aren't just legal restrictions?"

For once, the android did not immediately respond. It seemed Connor hadn't considered that possibility when calculating. For all of his bio-components and intelligent programming software, Connor hadn't quite adjusted to free thinking just yet.

Uncomfortable with the lengthier than normal silence, Hank used the opportunity to jump in. "Well, there are social things like...going for a drink with your work buddies after a shit day. There's a rule in there that said you probably wouldn't be allowed in a bar, but most of that's a social thing."

"But what is the purpose?" Connor's head tilted to the side, and Hank couldn't help but immediately think of Sumo. 

Hank rolled his eyes dramatically. "The _purpose_ , Connor, is its good to wind down. Relax."

"I don't need to relax."

Hank cackled at that. "Oh trust me Connor, you do. You just don't know it yet."

A slight frown crossed the man's brows before he responded, choosing to ignore Hank's snide remark. "I suppose it could help to engage in some social interactions outside of the work place to better integrate myself in society. Any other suggestions?"

"Well, to socialise better you probably ought to make some friends. That would be a start."

"I have friends."

"Ha!" Hank scoffed. "Name one."

"Aren't we friends?"

Hank's smile faltered momentarily. "Well sure, but most people have more than one friend."

"Okay. So I should meet your friends, and I can make them my friends too. Who are your friends, Hank?"

He couldn't help but notice the delicate note of sarcasm in his tone. Connor was too perceptive for his own good, and his tact and wit had definitely started to come into its own over the last few weeks. Hank supposed he only had himself to thank for that.

"Alright, you've made your point. Christ." Hank swatted a hand as he slowly made his way back to the car, with Connor following sharply behind. "So as you clearly figured out already, I'm hardly an expert at socialising. The closest I get is drinkin', and you probably can't get drunk so-"

"That's not strictly true." The android responded curtly, and Hank stopped in his tracks, turning back to face him.

"In theory, I could consume liquids in relatively small quantities provided I regularly empty them-"

"That's called goin' for a piss Connor, everyone does that."

"-and while the effects of the alcohol exhibited in humans would not have the same impact on me, provided I mixed it with a small quantity of direct Thirium, a similar result could be achieved."

Hank simply raised a brow at the man.

"Its not that I've been thinking about it!" Connor's pitch was higher, and Hank found it endearing that he still defended himself when he showed signs of deviancy. "But it seems a number of other androids had already been experimenting to achieve similar outcomes in order to better integrate with humans, and it seems safe provided the quantities are kept within certain parameters." 

"Well, we're definitely doin' that." Hank replied, opening the door to the car and throwing himself into the front seat, Connor reclining into the passenger side. "I can't fuckin' wait to see what you're like drunk." He cackled to himself, before twisting the ignition.

\- -

"Okay, so far we have go to a bar with your imaginary buddies, get drunk. Visit some human attractions, like a theme park, maybe a museum-"

"I think I'd like a museum" Connor interjected.

"I bet you fuckin' would, its basically like work." The man at the wheel rolled his eyes, keeping his gaze focused on the road. "What else?"

"Go to a musical event-"

"Just call it a concert, Connor."

"A _concert_ -" the android corrected, letting out a sigh. "Experimenting with fashion and self-modification."

Hank simply let out a low huff. This was bound to be a nightmare. He had visions of Connor arriving in the precinct one day with fluorescent pink hair covered in ridiculous tattoos and piercings. _'I'm trying to fit in, Hank!'_ he'd say, like a rebellious teenager.

"Purchase some physical possessions that don't hold any purpose outside of sentimentality."

'Go shopping and buy some shit', were Hank's exact words if he recalled correctly.

"Request some annual leave and go to another city."

"You don't have to stay in the country Connor, that's kind of the point. A holiday is wherever you want it to be. Go to France, or hop on a plane to fuckin' China if you want to."

"...travel internationally" He corrected, just a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Anything else you would recommend?" 

"Plenty." Hank remarked. "But that's a good start. Once you've done some of these you might have some of your own ideas further down the line." 

As they pulled into the precinct (androids had been told they could choose their own employment, but Connor had been quite insistent that he stay working in the same role so he could continue with ongoing cases), Hank smiled to himself. Sure, another shitty day at work, but tonight he was going to get Connor smashed, and it was gonna be fuckin' hilarious.


	2. Item #1 - Go to a live music event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank takes Connor to his first live music event.

It wasn't long before they were able to cross an item off Connor's 'Human Bucket List', as Hank had been calling it. Since their discussion, he'd been quietly keeping an eye out for any local gigs they could go to. Sure, he was more inclined to lean towards something that suited his tastes - the way he saw it, if he was sitting through a few hours of music with Connor it should at least be something _he_ enjoyed.

His plans were slightly hindered when he found out that a small, local festival was happening on the other side of the city that weekend. The talent on show wasn't likely to be exceptional, but while Hank was thrilled by the idea of taking the android to see one of his favourite bands, he figured he should at least let him sample a few other genres before he subjected him to the inevitable heavy metal gig.

When he arrived at work he found Connor already sat perched on the side of his desk (a habit he'd picked up fairly early on in their partnership that despite chastising, Hank had been unable to get the kid to shake. He had his own desk, for Christ's sake), and upon making eye contact, the android waved a hand at him cheerily.

"How many times have I told you, Connor, Jesus." Hank scolded in lieu of a greeting, motioning at Connor's habitually empty desk.

"Good morning, Hank" the man responded, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. It was subtle, but Hank knew him well enough now to be able to pick up on it.

"You'll be pleased to know I've secured tickets for one of your first Human Bucket List items-" Hank started, and the corner of Connor's mouth perked up when he handed him the pair of tickets "-now before you get excited, it's just a local festival so it's probably gonna be a load of crappy teenagers, but I thought it might give you a bit of a mixture of music types to experience."

"This weekend?" It wasn't difficult to detect the eagerness in the man's voice as he spoke, thumbing the tickets in his hands.

Hank knew he knew the answer, or at least that it was a rhetorical question, but he acknowledged it was something Connor was doing to better fit in - trying to engage in two way conversations rather than just responding with instant answers. It turned out that humans didn't bond well with know-it-all's. 

"Yeah, it's most of the day so if it's really bad we can leave ea-"

"I want to go for the whole day to get the full experience!" Connor interjected. 

"Yeah, sure." Hank rubbed the back of his neck. "It's outside too, and the weather is supposed to be nice this weekend, so we can just chill out if the music is really bad. Guessing androids can't get a tan."

"If you felt it would better lend to me fitting in with the general populous, I could make some changes to darken my skintone temporarily..."

"Nah, I was joking, it's fine. Come on, let's go. We'll talk more about this later. Fowler wants to brief us on a new case."

\- - -

Hank had agreed to meet Connor at the parks' entrance and hoped he'd make his way to the area without trouble. Connor was a perfectly able android, but Hank still felt a twang of guilt leaving the man to meet him alone when android violence was on the rise following their liberation. Connor had adamantly insisted he would be fine to travel alone.

When Connor arrived, somehow later than Hank (but still immpecably early), Hank realised Connor getting to the venue was the least of his worries.

"I guess we should have done that shopping trip that's on your bucket list before this." Hank chuckled, eyeing Connor's outfit as he lightly jogged towards Hank upon noticing him.

"Is something wrong with my outfit?" Connor inquired, an undertone of embarrassment in his voice.

"Nah, I'm kidding. It's fine." Hank ruffled his hair awkwardly, clapping a hand supportively across his back. He supposed he'd have to keep his thoughts on Connor's fashion choices to himself for now.

Connor sighed as though relieved. "That's good. I was almost late because I couldn't decide what outfit to wear. I wasn't sure what was appropriate for the event. Did you get my messages?"

"Huh? Nah, phones been in my pocket..." Hank rummaged through his jacket pocket and rolled his eyes at the 26 new messages symbol before pocketing the device again. "You look fine, Connor."

The corner of the man's lip perked up slightly, and they made their way towards the queue circling around the gate of the park. Hank chanced another glance at Connor's puzzling attire; Hank had given him some of his older shirts and clothes from when he was younger and slimmer, and Connor had some of his clothes from his time at Cyberlife. 

As well as the uniform, he was provided a set of basic clothing items such as t-shirts and trousers in case he needed to go undercover, but ultimately these were the equivalent of an adult school uniform - plain, boring, practical. Connor had opted for a puzzling combination of the two - he'd settled on a white vest, with one of Hank's more outrageous tropical shirts that was still a bit too big for him, a knot tied at the bottom to make it more form fitting. He wore a pair of what looked to be plain gym shorts - the kind Hank recalled he wore in gym class, a deep navy with a grey strip running along the side and sitting a few inches above his knee caps. He looked like he was about to go to the beach, Hank thought to himself. Thankfully he hadn't completed the look with flip flops, but he wasn't totally convinced the lace up boots did the look any justice. Hank wasn't especially sure about the oversized snapback either. Where had he even got that from? 

It wasn't that he looked bad - Connor had that sort of youthful charm that he could somehow make anything look good - and he did look good, Hank thought begrudgingly to himself. But it made him stick out like a sore thumb, and he knew Connor wanted to blend in while he found his feet. Not much to be done about it now either way.

He stopped Connor mid-walk, pulling the hat from his head and stuffing it in his pocket. "Yeah, that had to go. Much better." The corners of Connor's lips quirked up again, and he dipped his head.

As they waited in the queue, Connor told Hank all about the bands that would be performing that day, including their ages, musical inspirations, and in-depth information on each band members musical ability. Hank silently nodded along as the man spoke, best to let him get it out of his system. He finally spoke once Connor had finished listing each bands extensive musical history.

"Any particular ones you're interested in?"

"Well, I haven't really thought too much about it..." Connor mused, pausing for a moment to contemplate the idea. "I suppose I'm curious to hear what 'Trash Panda' actually sound like. Their website described them as _'an electic fusion of post-rock reminiscence and neo-classical pop-punk'_. It sounds curious."

"Sounds like bullshit to me" Hank grumbled under his breath, "We'll check 'em out though."

"How about you? Are there any you'd like to see?"

"Not sure my music tastes will be covered here - and if they do have any thrash metal bands, I imagine they'll be pretty fuckin' awful." Hank shuffled his feet awkwardly. Knights of the Black Death were not part of the line up, naturally.

"Hopefully we'll both find something we enjoy." Connor mused with optimism. 

Once inside, they made their way to a food truck - Hank choosing a box of cheesy nachos and a beer much to Connor's horror. The man serving gave Connor an uncomfortably bitter look when he noticed his LED, and Hank grabbed him by the arm and pulled them away as soon as the food was in his hand, muttering something under his breath about ungrateful assholes.

Making their way to one of the smaller stages, they sat on the grass a comfortable distance away so Hank could enjoy his food and Connor could have a gentle induction to some of the bands performing - Hank assumed he'd be fine, but his natural instinct was to keep him away from excessive sound and large speakers as not to damage his ears - as futile as that seemed for an android. 

As he ate he watched Connor curiously, who was viewing the band with an intense look of concentration on his face. It wasn't a good band, Hank concluded; a bunch of whiny, screaming teenagers who weren't blessed vocally and certainly weren't skilled in playing live music. He found himself wincing through off-pitch notes and flat guitar solos, but Connor still nodded along while he continued watching. 

As the band wrapped up, Connor turned back to Hank. "What did you think?" 

"Nah, I wanna hear your thoughts first." 

"Well, what's that phrase humans use - 'wailing cats'?" 

Hank chuckled. "That's the one." 

"Well, it sounded like that. They weren't exactly what you would call musically gifted, and while I'm not totally sure if the more shout-y music is for me, it did seem like they were having a lot of fun." He smiled to himself. "I can see how that makes the experience of seeing live music enthralling." 

Hank felt a smile crossing his face. Connor was really improving when it came to understanding the more sentimental side of the human psyche - he wasn't sure if it was a result of the deviancy or from his increased exposure to human interactions, but it warmed his cold old heart to see his friend actually find things interesting or enjoyable without there being the need for a wider mission. 

"That's good, but we can definitely get better than those guys. Wanna try one of the other stages?" 

"Sure!" Connor sprung to his feet and they made their way across the busy field once again. 

They arrived at another small stage, this one tucked away in a tent. Hank had to surpress the instinctive eye roll he knew was coming - this looked like some hippy shit from when his parents were kids. They'd always told him it was a fashion thing and it 'always came back around', and it looked like that was the case now. The band were performing on a low stage at the front, surrounded by a relative following of swaying adults. The lighting was dim and the ceiling was littered with fairy lights giving across an ambient feel. Hank was about to groan about the decor, but held his tongue when he noticed Connor glancing up and around him with wonder. 

They moved closer to the stage until they were about ten people deep from the performers, Connor edging in just a bit as he watched, mesmerised. Definitely not Hank's kind of thing at all, but it may very well be Connor's - he was gently swaying along to the soft acoustic sounds with the rest of the audience. He chanced a side wards glance at him, and Connor turned back to him, smiling with a almost sickeningly sweet excitement that tied knots in Hank's stomach. He returned a lopsided smile, patting Connor on the shoulder and letting his hand hover for a little bit longer that was necessary, although the android didn't comment on it. 

As the song concluded the tent erupted with a round of clapping that Connor enthusiastically joined in with. Kid was getting the hang of it after all, Hank mused, joining in with a slightly more lackluster slap of his hands. It may not have been his thing, but he couldn't deny they were at least able to hold their damn instruments without collapsing into teenage angst, and Connor seemed so damn thrilled with the whole thing that when the second song started he found himself bobbing his head along too. 

Another song ended, and during the eruption of cheering and clapping, Connor leaned over to whisper in Hank's ear. "This is really fun. Thank you." He returned a quick squeeze of the shoulder and before Hank had any time to process the gesture, his head had snapped back towards the stage as the lead singer announced this would be their final song of the set. 

This one had a bit more rhythm to it, and it seemed at least the front row of attendees were familiar with it, and their jumping and dancing caused a ricochet of enthusiasm across the rest of the crowd as they followed the catchy beat. Connor eyed Hank nervously, who simply returned a shrug of his shoulders. "I ain't gonna judge." 

Evidently the seal of approval was all Connor needed, because he increased the rhythm of his bobbing, moving his feet nervously until he settled into something of a rhythm. As the chorus kicked in he fully immersed himself into the dynamism of the crowd, swaying his hips slightly and shaking his shoulders to the beat. 

Hank couldn't help but gawk, and no matter how much he tried to reign in his expression, it was no use. Connor's shirt was riding off his shoulders, exposing the bare skin, and when he moved the loose knot of the shirt he'd given him (curse that fuckin' shirt) rose up slightly to reveal the smooth, creamy skin beneath and shit, was that a freckle? He tried to distract himself with the concept that someone designed this damn kid with such a level of detail that they'd chosen to include unique, impossibly human details, but ultimately he found himself totally enamoured with the unsettingly attractive man before him. 

Connor caught his eye mid-stare, and Hank moved to turn away, embarrassed at being caught, but Connor outstretched an arm, palm open, towards him. With another reluctant roll of his eyes, Hank blamed the (surprisingly minimal) amount of alcohol in his system for taking his hand and joining him in some uncoordinated and down-right awful dancing with this absolutely innocent and utterly wonderful android he'd accidentally developed a full blown ugly crush on. 

Hank chose to forget his embarrassment at the tacky music and his bumbling feet, following Connor around the event from stage to stage for the rest of the evening, dancing and laughing right up until the show ended. When they said their goodbyes and he arrived in the deafening quiet of his own home (sans the gentle 'boof' from Sumo who proceeded to dive right back into napping after Hank's arrival home), Hank threw himself down onto the sofa, resting his head back and holding his gaze on the ceiling. He jolted forward suddenly, remembering a conversation from earlier, and he pulled his phone from his pocket, opening the first of many early morning messages from Connor. 

_7.26am  
Good morning Hank, its Connor. I'm having some trouble choosing an outfit. Can you please advise what would be the most suitable for the event we're attending? _

_7.27am  
I've tried on a few outfits and I'm not sure what looks best. I don't believe I've got the appropriate wardrobe for this. _

_7.29am  
Do you have any clothes I can borrow that would suit? _

_7.31am  
Hank? _

_7.38am  
I assume you're not awake yet. I'll try on some outfits again and get back to you. _

_7.47am  
I'm going to send you some photos of some of the combinations I've chosen, please advise. _

Hank opened the first image file and let out a low chuckle. Connor had sent him an image of himself stood in front of a tall mirror, stood completely still, legs together, arms straight down. The first outfit was about as outrageous as he'd expected, a long sleeved green and orange floral number he'd been gifted by Hank, some short roll-up beige shorts that were a touch too tight, a pair of ankle length socks and plain white trainers. 

He flicked to the next image, and the next, and the next. Various combinations that were somehow worse than Connor's chosen attire; one that made him look like a tennis player, another that resembled pyjamas and another that resembled a early 00's frat boy. 

_7.49am  
Any thoughts? _

_7.52am  
Here are a few more! _

Somehow the images kept getting more ridiculous, and Hank couldn't help but howl with laugher through most of them. He then flicked to a final image of an outfit that was perfect - knee-length beige canvas shorts, a loose fit pale blue shirt with a slightly open collar, and a pair of canvas shoes. 

"That one was fine, why didn't he wear that?!" Hank groaned to no-one in particular. Sumo simply raised an ear up, before returning back to sleep. 

_8.13am  
Hank, are you awake yet? _

_[missed call - 8.15am]_

_[missed call - 8.30am]_

_8.40am  
I assume you're still asleep so I'm expecting you to turn up late, but I want you to know that I would very much like to enter the venue on time to see all of the bands. _

_8.46am  
I've chosen an outfit, I hope this works. (Hopefully) see you shortly. _

Hank turned away from his phone and stared back at the ceiling again, a small smile creeping across his face. As he found himself beginning to nod off, a buzz jolted him awake, and he held up his phone, squinting at the glow of the screen. 

_1.31am  
Thank you for the lovely day, I really appreciate you coming with me. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. See you tomorrow. _

Hank groaned, raising a hand to cover the involuntary blush crossing his cheeks. This was beginning to look like a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter - I really enjoyed writing it! I absolutely love writing these characters and this pairing and I hope that comes across in the writing.
> 
> Kudos and comments always very much appreciated! Thank you for reading.


	3. Item #2 - Get drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank brings up the subject of item #2 on the list, and Connor expresses some reservations about being publicly intoxicated.

Hank had originally planned to take Connor drinking as soon as they finished work on that first night when they discussed the list, but it became clear as they drove towards the bar that Connor was nervous, fidgeting in his seat as his eyes darted across the road ahead. His uncharacteristic quietness put Hank on edge, so when he turned the car around and suggested they do it another night because he was feeling 'too tired', he was certain he spotted the man's shoulders drop slightly as though a weight was lifted.

He'd chosen not to mention it for a while, thinking perhaps Connor would choose to bring it up on his own, but he didn't. Clearly something about it made him anxious, and while Hank wasn't particularly interested in forcing the man into doing something he didn't want to, he did want to at least open up conversation about it.

"Are you scared about going for a drink?" 

"Hm?" 

Connor's head perked up, his tongue sticking out mid-lick, a dot of blood on the thumb hovering by his lips. Perhaps Hank shouldn't have asked him this while they were in the middle of investigating the scene of a homicide. Connor was up to his usual android nonsense, sticking his fingers in evidence and licking it. Hank had long since given up trying to talk the man out of doing it - and regardless of his personal revulsions, it did help speed up forensic identification. He cleared his throat with a cough before speaking again. 

"Are you scared to go for a drink? Is it the idea of a bar that freaks you out or..?" 

"Oh." The man sat up from his squatting position on the floor. "It's not that, it's just..."

Hank let the uncomfortably long silence fill the air before speaking. "It's just what?" 

"It's stupid really..." 

"Nah, tell me. Its fine" He reassured. 

"Well, it's not the bar itself as much as the alcoholic drinks. Although I suppose its not even those." He shook his head lightly. "The idea of being intoxicated in public is something that makes me anxious. It's in my nature to follow my programming, and while I can admit I am actively trying to break that cycle of thinking, the idea of losing control of my actions when inebriated whilst unfamiliar with the consequences and my surroundings makes me nervous."

"Ah." Hank sighed. That made sense. Like a teenager caving under the peer pressure of having his first Vodka and Coke, Connor was scared of getting drunk and stupid and irresponsible. That was a universal fear he could understand if he cast his mind far back into his own youth. 

"Look, one of the things about getting drunk - and now, I know you're gonna call me a hypocrite because I don't do this-" Hank threw his hands up in defense as he spoke "- is it's important to be with people you trust who can look after you, and knowing your limits."

Connor gave him a look that sat somewhere between disgust and disbelief. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say a word. 

"Yeah, I know." Hank huffed. "But you trust _me_ , right?" 

"Yes." Connor replied without a hint of hesitation. 

Hank smiled to himself. "So to make your first experience less nerve inducing, we're gonna get some booze, take it back to mine, and have a few drinks in the safety of my house - just you, me, and Sumo. How does that sound?" 

Connor's smile radiated off him and he was positively glowing. "That sounds good. I think I can do that." 

"Good." He replied promptly, shuffling his feet and re-adjusting his posture. "Now let's find out who killed this guy." 

\- - - 

After their shift ended, they were still no closer to solving the case, so Hank found it somewhat poetic that this was the kind of scenario that would normally encourage him to take to drinking in the first place. Although it didn't take much, if he was being honest. He drove Connor to a local liquor store - insisting it was important that Connor try a mixture of drinks before settling on his preference. He found himself rattling on about the different tastes and textures of the drinks as they drove while Connor listened patiently. Trust him to have one speciality subject - and it was fuckin' booze. At least he felt like the knowledgeable one for once. 

When they arrived at the store, he grabbed a selection of drinks - beer (of course), a bottle of dark rum, whisky, gin, vodka, and begrudgingly picked up a cheap bottle of wine (he didn't care what anyone said - that shit all tasted the same). This was a lot of booze, even for him, and the clerk eyed him suspiciously and with concern. 

"Havin' a party." Hank mumbled as he handed over his money. He didn't need this guys judgement just because he'd seen him buying the same drink here every few days for the last 3 or 4 years. Connor simply quirked an eyebrow, bemused. 

When they made it back to his house, he laid a selection of the drinks out on the table, and poured a small volume of each into a glass, putting it in front of the bottle or can. Connor pulled out a beaker of Thirium, adding a small squirt to each. 

"Each drink has a totally different taste so first we've gotta find your preferences. So drink each of thes- _slowly!_ Connor, jesus!" As Connor darted for the first glass Hank slapped his hand away. "This ain't a competition. You've gotta savour the taste of each one - with a lotta drinks the best of the flavour is after the initial taste hits you, so take a moment between each one and don't down it." 

He took one of the first glasses and slid it towards the android, who looked at the clear liquid with curiosity. Connor took it in his hand, peered at the drink, before taking a deep breath and drinking it. Hank didn't flinch when the man spluttered, wheezing as he put the drink down. 

"That's _horrible_!" 

"That's vodka." Hank chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. "Yeah, most people don't drink that one for its _flavour_ as much as they do for its strength. A lot of drinks include vodka so you're gonna have to get used to it." He slid over the next drink - rum. 

"This one isn't so bad" Connor mused "Although I'm not particularly partial to the burn at the end." 

"You'll get used to it. It'll warm you up in the cold weather too." 

"Hank, need I remind you that I don't get col-" 

"Yeah, yeah I know, ruin a guys fun why dontcha. Drink the next one." 

Connor took a swig of the beer and spluttered. 

"What is _that_?" He wailed, putting the glass down a little too quickly. 

"That's the one yer supposed to like!" Hank groaned, throwing his head in his hands. Of course Connor didn't like beer. The cheapest, most accessible drink of the lot. 

"I thought the purpose of this was to choose what I like, not what you drink Lieutenant." 

Hank gave him a look, shooting a middle finger at him before passing over the next drink. 

They went on like this for some time until Connor had sampled a taster of each of them. By the end he was uncharacteristically loose, his normally smooth, well-spoken nature taking a back seat. When it came to crunch time, Hank was mortified to discover that Connor had a preference for wine - although when he thought about it, he couldn't exactly say he was surprised. He mumbled something about the 'colourful flavours' between hiccups before descending into a fit of giggles, and knowing Connor how he did - of course it made damn sense that he was a wine-drinker. 

Regardless of his preference in poison, it was abundantly clear that Connor was well and truly smashed. A light blush had formed across his cheeks, and he was babbling some kind of incoherent nonsense about something or another. 

"Lie-lieutenant, this is just so....f-fuuuuunny, don't you agreugh?" Connor descended into childish chuckles, leaning across the table to tap Hank on the arm. "Haaaank? It's like my senshursss are malfuntioneernnnin' and my eyes are 'awlll..." his voice trailed off as he waved a hand slowly in front of his own eyes, staring at it with wonder "...fuzzyyy." He put a strange amount of emphasis on the last word as he continued to marvel at his hands. 

"I can't be watchin' you like this all sober, that just ain't right..." Hank mumbled, pouring himself a glass of vodka (not his usual choice, but he wanted to get to drunk quicker than normal today) and downing it in one. Wiping the edge of his mouth, he glanced up to see Connor continuing to stare at his own hand, watching with wonder as the skin began to fade away, revealing a reflective white surface underneath. Hank had known this was something androids could do but he'd never seen it with his own eyes before. Something about the process was fascinating to watch, like a mask peeling away. 

"Hankkk, Hankk, look'n'see this..." Connor drawled, throwing himself across the table to grip Hank's arm. He yelped, but Connor met the sound with shushing noises. He grabbed his wrist, pulling it up to inspect it. 

"Loo-ook...look at your handdd. Compared 't mine." He lifted Hank's hand up, placing his chrome white hand against his own until they were palm to palm. "We look s-s-similarrr, but we could'nn be more diff-runt, you 'n' I." 

Hank told himself the cold sensation of Connor's palm against his was the reason for the twist in his gut, but when Connor threaded his fingers neatly through his, he simply stared in silence at their interlaced fingers, letting his eyes graze over the smooth skin against calloused, aged hands, trying his hardest to avoid Connor's eyes that he knew full well were staring a hole into him. 

"Guess we are pretty different Con." Hank mused quietly. 

"But thasss the thinggg-" Connor started, waving his free hand at Hank acuusingly "-we're not so different at-allllll." Connor's voice grew quieter, softer. "I feel like even though you're youuuu...and I'm mm-mee...theres somethin'..." As his voice trailed, he unfastened their fingers, instead taking Hank's hand in his and tracing absent-mindedly along the memory lines on Hank's palm. "There's somethinnn...there. Isn't therrrr?" 

Hank chanced a glance at Connor when the weight of his words hit him and he found the man looking across at him with some kind of yearning or longing that Hank couldn't place. 

"You know what-" Hank snaked his hand from Connor's loose grip, standing in his seat and picking up the remaining bottles. "-I think you've had enough for one night." 

Connor gasped much louder and longer than he likely intended to. "But Hankkkkkk! You said you'ddd...drink w'u meeee." He let the top half of his body fall flat against the table, his arms stretched across to where Hank had not long ago rest his arms. 

"Yeah, I know, I know. But I also said I'd look after 'ya. And you, Connor, are fuckin' smashed." He placed the remaining drinks in a cupboard, turning to point back at Connor. "It's important to know your limits. Plus, we've got work tomorrow, can't be havin' you come in hungover." 

"But you do that awwwl the time!" Connor cried. 

"And I'm an experienced adult who can make my own choices, but you're a kid who's had his first taste of alcohol and doesn't know how to handle it." Hank shot back. 

"I'm not a kid." Connor shot, a strange intensity filling his eyes, as he pulled himself up by pushing his body up from the table, hands resting flat on the surface. 

Hank rushed over seeing the stumbling android attempt to get up, and caught him as he began to stumble, putting his arms around the man so he was draped across him with his back to him, his arms wrapped firmly around his waist. "Woah there, steady" Hank cautioned as Connor let out a dissatisfied grumble. He pulled the surprisingly light man up, feeling his body go limp as he pulled him towards the bedroom, Connor mumbling things he decided he'd either misheard or would rather pretend he didn't hear. 

As Hank gently lead him to the bed, Connor mumbled something about not needing to sleep and how he could just take the sofa. 

"Nah, it's fine. I know you don't sleep but you need to rest - you can go into stasis, right? I can't have you rolling into work drunk tomorrow, Fowler will have my head." He pulled the blanket loosely over Connor as he fidgeted, the android kicking his shoes off onto the floor. 

"Whurrr are you going to shleeep?" Connor mumbled. 

"Sofa. It's fine, just get some rest Connor." Hank went to leave but Connor grabbed his forearm and pulled him back until he was kneeling by the bed. 

"You can join me y'know" the man whispered "Thurrsss room for two." 

Hank pulled back suddenly, standing abruptly and brushing down his jeans. "Yeahhhh, you're drunk kid. Get some rest." He moved forward to pat his head as he saw the androids eyes begin to flutter closed, and hastily made his way from the room. As he pulled the door to a close, he was sure he heard Connor mumble something about how he 'wasn't a fuckin' kid'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I totally didn't intend there to be quite this much sexual tension in this chapter, but here we are! Hank was a good boi and didn't get drunk, choosing instead to look out for his dumb drunk android. This isn't the last of drunk!(and very OOC) Connor, he'll be making another appearance in the future.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter thanks so much for reading! Kudos, comments, sharing round the world and shouting from the rooftops is very much appreciated!


	4. The morning after the night before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a night of heavy drinking, Connor experiences the delights of a human hangover, and has a frank conversation with Hank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW - Alcoholism, depression, mention of suicidal tendancies. Just discussion, nothing graphic.

Connor woke the next day feeling ( _feeling?_ That was still a very new sensation in itself) incredibly strange and drained - like he'd failed to go into stasis or reboot after a malfunction. He couldn't deny that he felt awful. As he whizzed through memories of the previous night, he concluded he had been drinking with Hank at his house, and ah, this was Hank's bed - he was still here. He pulled up the time and noticed it was 6:38am. Still time before they had to get to the office.

He sat up and rubbed his forehead - the strange heavy sensation in his body had yet to subside, and it grew more intense as he moved. He reluctantly pulled himself out of the bed, swinging his legs over the edge and standing, taking a moment to adjust to the uncomfortable feeling. How did humans do this so often. How did _Hank_ do this so often?

As he trawled further through memories of the previous evening, he was surprised to see that Hank decided against drinking heavily, and instead chose to call it a night, leading Connor to rest in his bed. While many of the details were still fuzzy (it seemed the alcohol had affected his memory recall, and segments were missing or blurry as though looking through an out of focus lens), he did recall strong memories of Hank's caring eyes and Hank more or less carrying him into this room. He smiled to himself, closing his eyes as though to savour the memory.

He quietly opened the creaky door, making his way into the living room. Hank was sprawled across the sofa, legs hanging over one of the arm rests and arms crossing over his chest, snoring loudly. Doing his best to not disturb him, Connor moved slowly across to the bathroom, gently clicking the door shut behind him. Connor had no need for bathrooms for the most part; he hadn't been built with a urinary tract or the need to wash in the traditional human sense, but he did need to use a mirror to get a better look at himself after the night before. The human effects of a night drinking alcohol were often very visible and he was curious to know which of these extended to androids in the same scenario. 

He was beginning to understand why hungover humans always looked so dishevelled - despite not needing sleep to function, it was clear his time in stasis had been disruptive and hadn't provided him with the adequate amount of down-time needed. While he did not display the tell-tale dark circles under his eyes, they did look a little red and slightly swollen, as though his retinas were struggling to adjust to the lighting. His normally impeccable hair (Connor didn't have much experience in pride - but he knew his hair was something to be proud of) was a wavy mess - he could only assume in his stasis disruption he had moved around during the night and something internally had stopped working. He weaved his fingers through the waves, trying to straighten out the kinks but it just wasn't having any effect.

He did the only thing he could think of - he switched on the tap, and splashed some water on his face. It of course, had no impact on making him feel more functional - but he'd seen a few movies where characters would do this and in his still drink-muddled mind he assumed it would at least be worth a try. He mentally scolded himself for being so foolish as to do something so illogical, what had gotten into him?

He switched off the tap and made his way back through the living room quietly.

"Mornin' Connor" came Hank's gruff greeting from the sofa, making Connor jump ever so slightly. He hadn't even sensed that the man had awoken. This drinking business really had thrown him a curveball.

"Morning Hank. How are you feeling?"

"Funny you asking me that. Jesus Connor you look like shit." He leant up on the sofa, pulling his legs down from the armrest and kicking them out in front of him with a stretch and a yawn as he stood, pulling his arms into the air as he did so. "S'it time to go to work?"

"Not just yet. Would you like me to make you a coffee?" Connor moved towards the kitchen, pulling some mugs from a cupboard and putting the kettle on the boil.

"Well, it looks like you're makin' it anyway, so sure." Hank replied gruffly. "How are you feelin'?"

"... I've been better, if I'm honest." He sighed, pouring coffee granules into the two mugs, stirring. As Hank seated himself at the table, he brought the two mugs over, sliding one over to Hank before pouring a shot of Thirium into the mug in his hand as Hank eyed him curiously.

"That's new."

"I thought I'd try the full human hangover experience" He replied, taking a sip of the warm brew and closing his eyes. "This is awful."

Hank let out a loud laugh before taking a long swig from his mug. "So, how do you feel? Do you uh, remember much?"

"Somewhat. A lot of my memories are blurry, and there are definitely gaps in the narrative - I'm unable to recall around 6% of last nights events."

Hank chuckled. "Welcome to the world of hangovers. "Now you know how I feel most days."

"Hank" He started softly "That can't be enjoyable. Why do you do it?"

Hank eyed him sternly for a moment, putting his mug down on the table sharply. Connor expected him to start hurling obscenities at him, but against all odds, he responded calmly.

"I dunno. I guess it's good to forget sometimes." He shrugged his shoulders, placing his hands together and resting them on the table. "You know, sometimes I envy your kind. You can just do a reset, and all of this...shit, just goes away. Sometimes I wish I could do that, forget everything and start again..." His voice faded into silence for a moment, as though he was contemplating the idea. "But I can't. And I don't fuckin' deserve the luxury anyway. So instead I get drunk, take a little time to forget about it, and I deal with the consequences. Because it never really goes away. You've got gaps in your memory now, but they'll probably come back, they always do. There's never really any forgetting."

Connor felt his chest beginning to tighten, and his fingers twitched under the need to instinctively put a hand to his chest to assess any malfunctions. Instead, he let his fingers jitter on his lap under the table and looked at Hank, giving him the silence that allowed him to continue.

"That night you found me here, when you broke my fuckin' window-"

"I'm sorry about tha-"

"I know, I know, it's fine. But that night, I...you shouldn't have been there to see that. And I'm sorry. I was in a dark place, you shouldn't have been forced to deal with that."

Connor lifted his hands from under the table and placed them together on the surface. "I wasn't forced to do anything. I wanted to help."

"I know, and I'm grateful for that. Still, it wasn't fair on you. Feelings or not." He glanced down at his hands, and Connor found himself drawn into Hank's incessant fidgeting, watching as his thumb grazed across the edge of his knuckles. "But, since I've met you, I feel like.... Like I ought to hang on a little while. If not for myself, but to keep his memory alive, y'know? And you." He nodded at Connor. "Its been a long time since I've had someone give a shit about me. It's different. It's taking some getting used to. But it feels like for the first time in a long time I might have something to give that warrants me hanging around." 

Connor felt his Thirium pump beating harder, the tightness in his chest twisting as though it was causing some kind of physical pain. His finger nails dug into his hand as he tried his best to stay grounded. This was not something he had any control over, and he wasn't experienced enough in emotions to be able to understand how to stop these intense feelings from overpowering him. He had this strange urge in his mind, a feeling as though he was going to be split in two, or that his circuits were about to over-heat. But despite all of this agonising new pain, he was far more concerned about the feelings Hank would be experiencing - and the thoughts that led him to this dark place. 

Hank evidently noticed something in his demeanour, and his expression changed. "Sorry, its too early to get this deep, I didn't mean to unload on you like that. I'm gonna go get rea-"

His words were cut off as Connor found himself springing from his seat and moving quickly across to Hank, pulling his head into his chest and wrapping his arms around him in a tight embrace. Hank did not protest - much to Connor's surprise - instead slowly slinking his arms around Connor's back to tighten the hold. Connor buried his face into the hair atop Hank's head, hoping that he wouldn't notice the artificial tears falling as they hit the man's scalp.

"What can I do to help?"

Hank didn't look up as Connor peered down at him, keeping his face buried in the safety of Connor's chest. "I guess it wouldn't hurt having someone around who could keep me on the straight and narrow. I didn't get drunk last night - even though I wanted to. I wanted to make sure you were okay, so maybe being around people more often would help. God fuckin' forbid."

Connor pulled back quickly, resting his hands on Hank's shoulders. "How about I stay here, with you?"

"You tryin' to move in with me now?" Hank looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow and smirking. 

"Not forever! Maybe for a few weeks. My knowledge of alcohol dependancy stipulates that it's important to have a support network around you who can help re-enforce positive habits and be present at particularly difficult times. Once the initial few weeks of substance withdrawal have subsided, and your body has grown used to the physical changes, we can assess how to proceed. But perhaps having someone here rather than being isolated will be of some help. And if it isn't, I'll leave."

Hank pulled back a little, looking Connor dead in the eye. The intensity of his gaze put him on edge. "You sure? Don't you have like, a flat you gotta pay for?" 

"Not exactly...."

Hank pushed Connor's hands from his shoulder in a smooth motion, his brow furrowing. "Connor. _Please_ don't tell me you're not staying somewhere permanent."

"Well, there is some permanency at the android shelter I'm staying at, but ultimately its a first come, first served set up-"

"Jesus fuck Connor, you're telling me you're staying in a fuckin' homeless shelter?!" Hank rose to his feet, voice raised. He lowered his head as he shook it, his voice growing quiet. "You know you always have a place here if you need it." 

"Yes, but I didn't want to be an inconvenience to you-" 

"You're not an inconvenience Connor, fucks sake." He felt a light heat rise to his cheeks at the man's words, even though his voice was gruff and clearly still displeased, Connor could tell from his time knowing Hank that this was meant as a compliment. "Looks like your staying here could be good for us both. But none of this just a few weeks bullshit, you stay here as long as you need - got it?" 

Connor nodded firmly, trying his hardest to suppress the corners of his mouth curving into a smile. It was a difficult impulse to control, and Connor wasn't overly experienced with impulses to begin with. They were a very human reaction, after all. 

"Right. Well, I guess I'll.." The older man shuffled his feet, pointing limply at the bathroom before walking away. As Connor began collecting the empty mugs from the table to wash, he was startled by Hank shouting his name. 

"Yes?" 

"Thanks. I mean it." He gave him a limp wave before heading into the bathroom, closing the door loudly behind him. As he heard the familiar trickle of the shower switching on (if Connor was a human, he'd have lost count of the number of times he'd hauled Hank out of a drunken stupor and commanded he take a shower. But he wasn't a human, so he knew he had done this eight times in the past month), Connor couldn't help but smile to himself, moving his fingers upwards to trace the involuntary reaction of his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Sorry this one got a little dark, we'll be back to some fluff next chapter I promise!


	5. Item #3 - Experiment with fashion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A work incident highlights the urgency of one of Connor's list items.

They'd been relatively quiet about Connor's list since the night Connor got drunk, partially through discomfort but also because of the way life was. Connor's move into Hank's home was smoother than expected - mainly because Hank forgot that Connor had no possessions. So when he suggested they go and get his stuff from the shelter and Connor simply remarked that there was nothing to get, Hank ignored the pang in his chest and made a mental note to tick off item #3 on the list when the opportune moment arose.

The opportune moment, Hank assumed, would be a leave day from work, or following a quiet day in the office (as if there was such a thing). Of course Hank was wildly wrong - and the opportunity came after a particularly dramatic narcotics bust. As the 'suspect' (clearly guilty, Hank scoffed when his partner had still insisting on referring to him as such even after they confiscated the drugs on his person) made a run for it, Connor bolted after him as he always did, and in the scuffle of restraining him, the man grabbed at Connor's shirt, ripping a large strip clean off it and all the way down, exposing Connor's stomach and midrift. Unphased, Connor of course continued to read the man his rights as though nothing had happened, despite the two halves of his shirt billowing in the wind. Hank had to remind himself that not only did Connor not feel the cold in any traditional sense, but he also wasn't the kind to tell off a suspect for such a minor inconvenience. Simply rolling his eyes, Hank hauled the man - now in cuffs - away from Connor - letting him know that he was a major fuckin' inconvinience.

Once the suspect was detained and processed, Hank beckoned Connor back to the exit.

"Lieutenant, need I remind you we have more work to do."

"Not like that we don't" Hank snapped, gesturing at Connor, reminding the seemingly unfazed man that he was exposing his chest to the entire precinct, much to the discomfort of a number of the officers on duty. "Were going back to mine, grabbing you a change or clothes and _then_ we're doing more work." He quickened his pace to the door, feeling the eyes of the entire bull-pen scorching into them. 

Until the inevitable shopping trip, Hank had insisting on giving Connor some of his old clothes from when he was younger - and admittedly thinner. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd kept them, but it at least acted as a starting point for what he hoped would be a slightly more appropriate wardrobe for the android. The Cyberlife uniform didn't make sense since the androids had been legally declared free people, and even if his old shirts hung off Connor like a kid not yet grown into his school uniform, it was a damn sight better than the awful thing he'd been made to wear before.

As they got inside, Connor stopping to pet Sumo as he always did, Hank opened the drawer he'd deemed was now 'Connors clothes' - to find it empty.

"Connor!" He shouted.

"Yes Hank?" the man replied, appearing beside him in the spare room quicker than expected.

"Where's all your shit?"

"By 'shit' do you mean the clothes you gave me?"

"Yeah, those. I gave you loads."

"Well, you did" Connor started "but it appears I have none left."

Hank eyed the man slack-jawed, motioning again at the empty drawer. "They're not disposable. You do realise you can just wash 'em when they get dirty right?"

"I am aware." Connor replied, and Hank did not miss the less than subtle displeasure in the man's voice. "The first shirt was stained with Thirium when we attended that Android homicide. You may not know, but Thirium leaves very distinguished stains that cannot be removed, and I assumed you wouldn't want me wandering the precinct covered in what is effectively blood. It's not something I would object to myself, but from what I understand of human etiquette it would be considered _inappropriate_ "

"Sure. So what about the others?"

"The second shirt ripped down the sides when I dislocated my shoulder chasing the suspect a few days later. That was also irreparable."

Hank had a strong suspicion where this was going, but he decided to indulge Connor's incessant need for detail a little longer.

"Then there was the altercation you had with Detective Reed. I thought it was crucial I separated you both to avoid one of you committing a homicide in the precinct. In the scuffle, the back of the shirt was pulled leaving a large rip down the middle. I did wear it for the rest of the day, but I thought it best to dispose of."

"He fuckin' had it coming." Hank mumbled. Connor ignored his grumbling and continued unphased. 

"Another time, Sumo got a bit over-excited during playtime and his teeth tore one of the seams. I did try repairing that one, but as it had caused irreversible damage to the lining I thought it best to dispose of. Then last week, when I was making dinner, I spilled casserole on-"

"Alright alright, I get the picture." Hank interjected, waving his hands up in defeat. "So what you're telling me is - you're all out of shirts."

"That is correct."

Hank made a disgruntled moan, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes. "So you didn't think to tell me before we got here."

"I assumed I'd just borrow another one of your items of clothing." The man shrugged.

"Well sure, but you're forgetting I don't have a very big wardrobe. And most of it is stuff that's gonna make you look more _goofy_ than you already do" Hank gestured at Connor's person as if to amplify his point. "AND if I were to let you borrow one of my shirts, you'd clearly fuckin' ruin that too. And then we'll _both_ be out of shirts."

Connor opened his mouth to speak before closing it again. Finally, he'd rendered the android fucking speechless and he didn't have a intelligent quip to fire back. So Hank grabbed one of his more uninspiring t-shirts that he didn't feel especially attached to and threw it into Connor's chest before leaving the room. The android remained where he stood, perplexed until Hank called out. 

"Hurry up! We're ticking something else off your list."

\- -

Hank wasted no time calling Fowler to let him know they were taking the rest of the day off while Connor changed out of his ripped shirt. Fowler had, as expected, sternly muttered obscenities at Hank down the phone line, but he was noticeably less angry than normal - probably because Hank had actually _told_ him for a change rather than going awol.

Connor, surprisingly, didn't question why they weren't heading back to the precinct. The android was disconcertingly quiet, seemingly lost in thought staring out of the window as they drove to the nearest mall, about thirty minutes away. Hank decided to just enjoy the peace and quiet, choosing to focus on the sound of the world around them and the calming hum of the engine as he drove. It was a nice day outside, so he opened the window a little to lean his arm out of it, allowing the smooth wind skim across the skin. He thought he saw Connor turn towards him in his peripheral vision, but as he glanced across the man was looking out of the window as he was before. 

If Hank was being honest, he hated shopping with a passion. It called back memories of his ex-wife dragging him around the stores, and Hank wasn't sure he'd been to an actual mall since then. The benefit of heading to a mall slightly out of the city during a week day did at least guarantee the place would be much quieter than the weekend, a small blessing. As they parked up, Connor peered curiously to the side as he eyed up the large building before them. It wasn't anything spectacular architecturally, but he supposed Connor still had that android curiosity and wonder about everything. Hank rolled his eyes instinctively, but if he was being honest he found the characteristic endearing. 

They engaged in idle chatter as they walked through the entrance, Connor pointing at each store as they passed it, giving background into how highly regarded the fashion it contained was considered by the general republic. Hank had to put a stop to it when he started reeling off customer reviews, waving a hand and stating simply that 'that was enough of that'. They walked in silence for a while, letting the air fill with the whimsical hum of generic shopping centre music. 

Hank dragged Connor into a small store on a corner that had sale signs plastered on the window, ignoring his rambles about it being 'a cheap knock off of known brands'. He simply grabbed a few shirts, chucked them at Connor and sent him to the changing room as he perched on a chair in the waiting area. 

"I don't really see how this is necessary Hank!" Connor called from behind the curtain. "I'm built to fit a certain size, I know these will all fit so trying them on is futile." 

"You ain't checking if they fit, you're seeing what they look like." 

"Well, they don't look good!" Connor pulled back the curtain, showing the other man the first combination - a pair of loose beige slacks and a garish shirt. If Hank was being honest, they were the kinds of things he would have picked out if push came to shove if he was doing his own shopping. He knew they wouldn't be Connor's style, but he needed to drill into the androids stubborn head that he had to make his own choices - and if it took putting him in something ugly for him to see that, then so be it. 

Hank looked him up and down with a stern expression before nodding. "So...?" 

"I don't like it." Connor retorted sharply with a hint of anxiety in his voice. 

" _What_ don't you like about it, Connor?" 

"Well, the fit is all wrong. The size is correct, but the sleeves are tight under my arms..." He lifted his arms up to demonstrate "...and it just...doesnt look good?" He paused for a moment, unsure of himself. "But I don't know why that is." 

"Well, okay." Hank replied, rubbing his thighs before standing slowly. "So change out of 'em and we'll try another store." 

The next few stores were a blur of changing room waiting areas and baskets filled with clothes. Hank was patient, knowing the experience was more frustrating for Connor than it was for him. They finally began making some progress thanks to some overly helpful retail staff in one of the more popular stores, that Hank had more than a sneaking suspicion were helping because they were drawn in by Connor's doe-eyed innocence and good looks.

They selected a wide array of well-fitted shirts in neutral colours, and when Connor pulled the curtain back to the positive babbling of the women, Hank had to admit the look worked for him. The shirt clung to the man's frame without being too tight, the short sleeves giving a more casual look without being too overstated, and the slim fit dark jeans completed the look well. Hank knew Connor liked his formal, buttoned down Cyberlife uniform (mainly because that was all he knew), so sticking to outfits that could still be considered smart did seem the safest bet. Hank shot him a half-smile and a thumbs up, much to Connor's delight, whose own face lit up with a dashing grin. 

Hank insisted on paying the bill when they got to the checkout, much to the curiosity of the retail staff, if their raised eyebrows were anything to go by. Hank was confident that Connor had the funds to pay, but he was the one who'd dragged him out to buy clothes and Hank wasn't one to skip out on paying for a date. Not that it was a date. 

It _wasn't_ a date. 

Spirits lifted from the first round of purchases, Connor seemed more confident in pointing out stores he wanted to explore, and was getting the knack of understanding what looked good on him, programming be damned. Hank encouraged him to try everything even if he had his doubts, and even when Connor eyed a fully tailored suit with a bow-tie and started muttering about how he'd never have the occasion to wear it, Hank insisted further. 

"You will. Plus, everyone needs a good suit in their wardrobe. You never know when you'll need it." Connor had simply smiled shyly in return, and Hank didn't push him when the android declined from showing him how it looked on, simply taking the items to the till point and paying for it without another word. 

Hank wasn't sure how much more he could take; he was old, his legs hurt, his back ached and as endearing as Connor was, his patience was beginning to run thin. They set foot in a more colourful store than the others, filled with bright t-shirt prints, and Hank swore to himself that this would be the last one before he politely bowed out. 

Connor immediately gravitated to a hanger at the back of the store with unexpected urgency, and Hank slowly shuffled after him. 

"Hank, look!" Connor was grinning from ear to ear, holding up a hanger with a light blue t-shirt and a light blob on a pocket on the chest. As he drew closer he couldn't surpress the chuckle that came out - Connor was pointing animatedly at a t-shirt with a Saint Bernard on the pocket. 

"It's Sumo!" He proclaimed proudly, taking another look at the shirt to check the size. 

"So it is. That your size?" Connor nodded. "Lemme see."

Connor dutifully handed over the shirt, and Hank peered closer at the design, before swiftly walking away and handing the item over to the person behind the till. 

"Hank!" Connor squeaked, running along behind him. "I'll pay." 

"Don't be silly, I'll get it." 

"But you paid for those other shirts too!" 

"Yeah, but if you're gonna get a top with _my_ dog on it, it'd be rude for me not to get it." Hank found himself instinctively reaching to put a hand on the worried androids shoulder, and he felt the muscle (was it muscle?) tension relax to his touch. "Consider it a moving-in gift."

Hank felt an unmistakable heat rising in his cheeks when Connor gave that bashful, earnest grin, and it only got worse when the man god-damn squeezed his arm excitedly. 

"Thank you, Hank." 

He mumbled something that resembled 'you're welcome' under his breath as he swiped his card across the machine. Once again, Hank simply reminded himself that he was well and truly fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to the lovely storytellingofcrows on Tumblr who suggested in a comment having some store ladies go nuts helping a totally clueless Connor! I appreciate u ❤️
> 
> Thanks again for reading - this chapter is a little sluggish to me so hoping I can just move past it but nonetheless I appreciate any comments or feedback!


	6. Item #4 - Go out with work colleagues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank seizes the opportunity to take Connor out to a work social, and both men find themselves musing on things they don't quite feel ready to confront.

Connor had proudly paraded some of his new outfits around the precinct in the week that followed their trip to the mall, like a kid given free reign to choose an outfit for a party. Hank was certain everyone had noticed the way Connor walked with a slight spring in his step, a smile almost permanently etched on his face that only grew wider when someone would comment on his outfit. Hank should find it irritating, childish even. Of course, he didn't.

Hank nearly decked Reed when he heard him make a snide comment about Connor's desire to express his humanity, but remembering one of the reasons for the shopping trip in the first place, he instead decided to send across a warning glare. Reed simply raised a brow and smirked, but took no further action. A stalemate he could handle, even if it was likely only temporary. He'd never seen eye to eye with Reed, but physical altercations were relatively new - if he thought about it too hard (and he tried not to), it seemed they'd only really start when it related to Reed's poor treatment of Connor. Hank was no stranger to playground bullies; he knew Gavin had the mental age of one, so he also knew that providing him with the aggression he clearly craved would only egg him on further. Connor paid no mind to him, so the Lieutenant supposed he should try his damndest to do the same. He'd get bored eventually.

Somehow the new threads made Connor's lack of personal space and professional etiquette when it came to Hank all the more blaringly obvious. Now that he was dressed like a normal person, Connor perching on the corner of his desk to talk shop came across very differently, and Hank would be foolish to have not picked up on the subtle change in attitude around the office and the slightly questioning gazes he occasionally spotted. He knew it was harmless in Connor's eyes, but he'd been privy to enough work gossip in his time to know the effect talk had on someone's self esteem, and now that the android was finally loosening up he didn't want to bring him back down. And that was when it hit him - Connor had been focusing all of his new lifestyle on Hank, but there was that list item that kept coming back to him - 'go out with work colleagues'. It was the perfect way to get the rest of the team to see Connor the way he did, and broaden the man's (very limited) social circle outside of his roommate, partner and only real friend. God, the kid needed variety in his life.

The opportunity came around sooner than he expected - Hank didn't want to be the ringleader in any social activity when he knew Connor would likely have his back up about the whole thing. So when Tina suggested a round of drinks with the team one night, Hank told her he'd be there - and would bring Connor along to boot. She eyed him quizzically but nodded, giving Connor a friendly smile. As she turned to leave, Hank gave the android an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and Connor returned the gesture with a half-smile, which Hank had learnt to identify as Connor nervously approving of something - a good sign.

As the working day drew to a close, Hank noticed Connor getting twitchy, fiddling with his coin as he so often did, and adjusting the hem of his shirt far more times than was necessary.

"Hey. If you don't wanna go, we don't have to."

"I didn't say that." Connor retorted with a slight pout.

"I know, but you've been fidgeting with that damn shirt for the last thirty minutes and you're gonna tear at the hem if you keep at it. How about we go along, see how it goes, and if you want to leave, we make our excuses and leave. Are you okay with that?"

Connor simply nodded, pocketing the coin and straightening out his shirt one final time.

"Good. Now, let's get going, I'm pretty sure everyone else is already getting their first rounds in and I'm dying for a drink."

"You're _always_ dying for a drink, Hank." Connor replied, not missing a beat.

"Alright smart-ass, maybe that's because I spend all of my time with _you_ and it's the only way I can cope." He flicked a middle finger at the other man before grinning. "Now let's get you talking to some people other than me before I drink myself to death to drown out your back-chat."

Connor flicked a middle finger back in return (Hank reminded himself that he should _not_ be proud of teaching him that) before playfully punching him in the shoulder and proceeding to talk his ear off about a 'particularly interesting' article he'd read about deviant psychology. Hank was gagging for that drink.

\- -

"Don't forget. If you wanna leave, you just ask me if I want a glass of wine, and I'll know you want to go."

"That doesn't make any sense, you _hate_ wine."

"That's the point, Connor." Hank sighed before leading him into the bar.

The place was surprisingly busy for a normal weeknight, but he supposed with half of the precinct there it made sense. Hank couldn't remember the last time he'd gone for a drink with other people, let alone his work colleagues - maybe a few years? Probably not since...Well. Time to get that first drink.

He put in his order, asking for the 'cheapest wine yiu sell' for his partner, sliding the wine glass along the bar to Connor who caught it with that typical android presicion he was known for. He'd left Connor chatting to a few of the newer recruits who didn't have quite as much anxiety about their new android colleagues - trust the younger generation to 'get' it before everyone else did. Hank had always considered himself fairly Liberal and open-minded, and he felt a pang of guilt when he remembered how poorly he'd treated Connor and his kind just a few months ago. He shook off the impending bad mood when he saw Connor shoot him one of his award-winning pearly grins, and he felt every inch of anxiety leave his body as he smiled back. He tipped his drink to him before heading over to Fowler, who was hovering in a corner with a drink in one hand and a mobile in the other, staring at the screen with a deep frown. 

"Didn't expect to see you here mingling with the riff-raff" Hank remarked in lieu of a greeting, and Fowler gave him a look he'd grown to know well in all of his years of working with him - disapproval with a hint of I'm-too-old-for-this-shit.

"Could say the same for you. You're hardly what anyone would consider a social pariah, Hank."

"What can I say, I surprise even myself sometimes." He took a gulp of his drink. "I'm only really here to keep an eye on the kid."

Fowler raised an eyebrow but made no further comments. They drank in silence for some time before Fowler struck up the kind of conversation that was considered socially acceptable; how was the house, how was Sumo, stories about home DIY projects gone wrong and some general disgruntlement about the lack of Government funding for the region. It was safe and comfortable conversation, but Hank didn't totally hate it. It felt routine. It felt normal. 

"He's brought a bit of the old you back you know. You can see that, right?" 

The comment took him aback, but Hank didn't find himself lashing out with insults and denials like he would have before. Maybe Fowler was right. Maybe Connor did bring out the best in him. 

He smiled softly. "I think I'm starting to, yeah." 

Fowler pursed his lips, glancing across at the rest of the group as they all laughed together loudly, before continuing with small talk as though nothing out of place had been said. 

\- -

Everyone somehow remained at the bar until closing time, and Hank was pleased that Connor at least seemed to be enjoying himself and making efforts to talk to other people. He chose to keep a safe distance, allowing the android some space to make his own friendships - after all, he knew Connor would benefit more from the exercise if he didn't have Hank as a crutch - and he'd yet to mention wine, so it seemed like so far everything was good. As the group left to try and find another place to continue drinking, Hank followed obidiently - after all, Connor was having a good time, and he'd had enough to drink to be in a comfortable buzz of tipsy, willing to go along with whatever nonsense his younger colleagues had planned. 

It became evident that Reed had led them into the path of a clubbing district rather than a bar (Hank suspected this had been the intention all along), and Hank gave Connor a sidewards glance. The android simply shrugged his shoulders. 

"Yeah, I'm out. Time for me to call it a night. I'll see you all _bright and early_ in the office tomorrow." Fowler raised his hands in defeat before waving his goodbyes to the group. 

Hank pointed at the man as he walked away and nodded. "I'm with him. Too old for this clubbing shit."

The disgustingly bright lights of the club shone behind them, the word 'Purity' illuminated in blue and white - he had his doubts that the name was a reflection of the activity that took place inside. It didn't look seedy by any means, but classy it was not. 

Connor didn't say a word, simply staring at Hank with those mock-Sumo eyes he full well knew the effect of.

"No" Hank warned, shaking his head. "Don't even fuckin' try it. You can go, you don't need me there with you."

"But it'll be fun!" Tina interjected.

"Don't worry Anderson, we'll look after your _pet_." Reed slurred, sliding an arm around Connor and pulling him closer. Hank _knew_ Connor was perfectly capable of looking after himself, but the sight of Reed with his arm around _his_ partner was almost predatory and it made his skin crawl. 

Connor shifted uncomfortably but didn't move, eyeing Hank nervously. "It'll be fun, Hank" he offered meekly, that damned hopeful look still in his eyes.

Hank contemplated leaving for a split second until he remembered the presence of Reed slung around Connor. "Fuck it. Fine."

A chorus of cheers rang out as the remaining members of the group stumbled into the club. Hank had expected more resistance from the doorman given his age, but he barely gave him a second glance, so at least that was one less argument he'd need to have tonight. The bright neon lights and thumping music pierced his senses as they entered, and he glanced at Connor to see how he was responding to the sensory overload, but found his expression neutral.

Already a comfortable amount of drinks in, Reed was leading the group to the bar with a swing of his hips and his fists pumping through the air as a chant of _shots, shots, shots_ rang out between him and some of the other young detectives. Hank reluctantly accepted something acidic green in colour when it was handed to him, and he watched warily as Connor downed his shot, not an ounce of discomfort on his face - maybe the kid was learning how to handle his drink better. He was pulled away by some of the younger members of the team to the dance floor, where he seemed right at home, dancing and laughing with not a shred of anxiety to be seen. Reed had managed to garner the attention of a dark haired man at the bar whom he was evidently offering to buy a drink for. Hank couldn't help but think the man held a striking resemblance to Connor, although taller and more stern-looking, but he assumed that was the alcohol talking. 

As Hank nursed his drink, watching the group enjoy themselves while he remained in a comfortable haze of drunkeness (he wasn't sure what would look weirder - his current position watching everyone like a chaperone, or if he were to actively try engaging with the significantly younger club clientele), time seemed to fly past and everything became a blur. He vaguely recalled Connor coming up to him and whispering thank you's in his ear, and he couldn't recall if the kiss on the cheek was a figment of his imagination or something that actually happened, but he wore a goofy smile on his face for the rest of the night either way. Did he imagine that moment of embarrassing dad-level dancing with Connor or did that really happen? At some point he saw Reed getting uncomfortably close to his new friend, with all sorts of grinding and tongue's involved and the whole thing made him feel just...well, old.

Before he had time to contemplate his place in the abstract, loud room any further, he felt Connor grasp his hand and lead him to the exit, murmering something about buying him a wine. The cold air hit him and he felt a thumping sound ringing in his ears, the hum of street cars and gentle chatter gradually filtering into his ear waves. 

He was led into a cab and the hazy lights of Detroit filled his blurred vision when his eyes weren't shut. Soft hands grasped his arm to jolt him awake and he was being led out of the car and up his driveway. He didn't recall opening the door, and he wasn't sure quite how he made it into his own bed, but he was certain Connor had something to do with it. Without hesitation, and for the first time in some time, he fell into restful sleep.

\- -

"So are you and Lieutenant Anderson..." The man's voice trailed off, eyeing Connor nervously and giving a curt nod, as though he didn't quite want to verbalise the words.

"Am I and Lieutenant Anderson what?"

"Well, you know. Together." The man gulped. He was anxious; perhaps bolder than he would be normally if it wasnt for the intoxication, but still anxious.

"We're partners, yes."

"So you're together?"

"I'm...not sure I follow."

"You know..." One of the other women at the bar cut in as though to save her colleague the discomfort. "Romantically."

"Ah." Connor replied. "No, we are not."

"You're not? Oh, okay, because I thought-"

"You thought wrong" Connor interjected sharply. "Our friendship is one of strict professionalism, and we are nothing more than platonic." He hoped they didn't detect the hint of disappointment in his voice, and he did his best to mask it with what he hoped was a warm smile. The pair seemed convinced, and the man looked relieved. Mission accomplished.

"So you're not seeing anyone...romantically?"

Ah. He was hoping to avoid this. He glanced over at Hank, who was busy talking to Tina. How to best approach this delicately, he wondered.

"I'm not, but I'm what you might perhaps call romantically _unavailable_."

"Oh. So you like someone?" The young man's voice was hopeful, he needed to be firmer.

"Well, no. Maybe. But that's not what I -" He sighed, trying to find the right words to explain how he felt. Feelings were still so new to him, and trying to express them, especially when he didn't understand them, was still challenging. "I'm not quite sure how I feel about romance just yet because I'm still getting to grips with _having_ feelings. Emotional attachment aside from the usual feelings of companionship are causing me some confusion, and I think I need to figure out the difference between the two."

The other man looked a little disappointed, a small 'oh' leaving his lips. He excused himself politely before moving across the dance floor towards the toilets. Had he said the wrong thing? He had tried his best to be both compassionate _and_ genuine, to say what was on his mind without holding back, but he didn't want to hurt the man's feelings. Humans were so confusing.

"Don't feel bad, it's just a little crush. He's just a bit sheepish because he's drunk." The woman who had interjected earlier, another young detective, looked at him sympathetically, leaning her arms back on the bar from her seat on the bar stool. "You were more polite than most people would have been."

"Perhaps I could have said something to ease the dissatisfaction." Connor mused. "Feelings are...confusing."

"I'll drink to that." She clinked her glass at Connor's, and they both took a long swig. "What you said back there though, about being 'romantically unavailable'. That's not strictly true, is it?"

"What?" He stammered.

"Don't worry, I won't tell." She tapped her nose and winked. "You know the difference. You just don't want to _admit_ it."

"I think you're mistaken." He stuttered. He had intended it to come across much firmer and more confident than it did.

"If you say so. But I say you know full well the difference between romantic and platonic feelings." She paused to hiccup before continuing. "That's the thing with romance. You can try to ignore it, or run for it, but there's no mistaking it."

"What does it feel like?" He asked quietly.

"Well...." She paused to think for a moment, taking another gulp of her drink. "It feels a little like you've got a heavy weight in your chest whenever that person is around. You might get embarrassed or clumsy when you're around them, or maybe you get more affectionate. But your mood is always better when you're with them. You do stupid little things in the hopes they'll notice and you bend over backwards to make them feel better - maybe small gestures like getting them a coffee on a bad day, or maybe you wear a nice outfit in the hopes you'll catch their eye." She eyed Connor's outfit knowingly. "I'm not sure if it's the same for androids, but humans get like, a fluttering feeling in their chest. Butterflies, we call it."

"Butterflies..." He mused, absent-mindedly raising a hand to his own chest. He found himself recalling the hasty kiss on the cheek he gave Hank earlier when thanking him for accompanying him to the club even though he didn't want to. Thinking back with a flush of his cheeks, he knew that was definitely more affectionate than their professional relationship warranted. And that all-too familiar feeling in his chest... 

"Maybe it's different for androids though." She shrugged.

"It's the same." He shot, taking himself aback. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Well, there you go." She cracked a knowing grin, wiggling her eyebrows at him, downing the last of her drink before waving an arm at the bartender to request another. "You want one?"

"I think I'll be going actually." He stood suddenly, giving her a curt nod before near sprinting across the dance floor to Hank, who was now stood alone, eyes closed as if in deep thought. He planted a hand firmly on his forearm, and mumbled "I'm buying you some wine" before herding him out of the exit and into the first cab he could hail.

Hank was a little out of it, he discovered - not his usual drunk self at all but instead a quiet, sleepy drunk - and that he could deal with, leaving him alone with his thoughts in the silence of the automated cab. As the bright neons of the party district blared across his vision as they drove through the city, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional snort from Hank as he drifted in and out of sleep, Connor found himself lost in thought. He was abrubtly shifted back into reality when he felt a dead weight land on his shoulder, a snoring Hank falling over to his side of the car as they swerved around a corner, his head nuzzling into Connor's shoulder as he mumbled something incomprehensible before continuing to snore. He felt his Thirium pump tighten in his chest cavity for a moment, entertaining the thought of keeping the sleeping man there, before the rational part of his mind kicked in. He gently pushed Hank back across to the other side of the gap, allowing him to comfortably fall into the opposite corner without missing a wink of shut-eye.

He near enough carried a barely awake Hank into his house, an arm slung around his shoulder as he gripped the man's waist. It was times like this that he was thankful for his android strength; the Detective wasn't a light man by any means, and his barely conscious state meant he was more or less trying to transport a dead weight. He heard the occasional mumble from the man as they moved through the door, and he laughed when Sumo barked playfully at the pair and Hank's response was to drunkenly shout 'WOOF!' back before chuckling to himself as though he'd told the most intelligent joke.

Hauling the man into his bed, removing his jacket and shoes and pulling the covers over him, he felt a slight tug at his arm as he turned to leave, and he found himself caught falling onto the bed beside him.

"Think you should stay here w'me." He heard the man mumble, freezing as he slung an arm around him to pull him into an embrace, his back flush against Hank's front. His Thirium pump was beating at speeds that simply weren't safe, and feeling a knot in his stomach he knew that it was time to engage his 'fight or flight' functions. As much as he didn't want this moment to end, the warmth of the larger man filling him with want and longing, he had to remind himself that _Hank was drunk_ and it just wasn't responsible. Once again he removed himself from the situation, hearing a disgruntled huff as he slid out of the embrace and moved from the bed. He couldn't help but rest a palm on the curve of Hank's cheek, trying to commit to memory the feeling of warm skin and slight stubble. Moving away to the door, he glanced back at him one last time before closing the door.

Connor's internal problem solving functionality was advanced enough to be able to identify that humans acted differently under the influence of chemical substances. This was simply no different, he reminded himself, as he wrapped his arms around himself on the sofa and allowed himself to drift into uncomfortable statis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this was a long one! I was planning on splitting this across two chapters but it didn't feel right from a narrative standpoint so I just went with it.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this and thank you so much for reading - comments, kudos etc always appreciated!


	7. Item #5 - Go to a Museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hank jumps the gun, and Connor reminds him exactly where he needs to be.

Hank woke up the following morning surprised by the uncharacteristic absence of a throbbing headache. There was no doubt he'd been drinking the night before, and god did he feel exhausted, but nothing compared to his usual drinking sessions. Which was surprising, because he knew full well he'd been absolutely hammered. In fact, he wasn't even sure how he'd made it home in the first place...

Of course _Connor_ had something to do with it. Go figure. It was times like this he was thankful for his android flat-mate; if he'd left the club ( _god_ , he couldn't believe he'd gone to a fuckin' club) of his own accord he doubted he would have made it further than the sidewalk. As he squinted and let the morning sunlight flood his vision, he spied a half-empty glass of water on the dresser alongside a opened packet of pain killers. He definitely didn't have the foresight for either of those things, so that was undoubtedly a Connor move. As he begrudgingly pulled his limbs from the bed and made his way into the kitchen, he was met with the smell of fresh food that oddly didn't make him feel the need to wretch. Post-drinking nausea he was all too familiar with, so this was new. 

He found Connor hunched over by the hob, staring intensely at a fizzing pan. He looked more rough than Hank did, hair unkempt and wearing last nights clothes as though he hadn't slept (well, of course he hadn't slept). 

"Whatcha cookin'?" Hank mumbled as he approached the man, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. He hadn't expected the man to jump at his touch - Connor wasn't exactly one to startle. "Ah, sorry." 

"It's okay. How are you feeling?" Hank couldn't help but detect a hint of sadness in the androids voice this morning - had something happened the previous night to upset him? Shit, had _he_ done, or said, something stupid? That wasn't a huge stretch of the imagination. 

"I'm fine, unbelievably. I don't remember even makin' it home last night so I can only assume you wound up babysitting me again. Sorry about that." 

"Excellent deduction, Lieutenant." Connor smirked, raising an eyebrow as Hank responded with a half-hearted middle finger salute. "And you're welcome. It was no trouble." 

"Well, I'm sorry if I caused you any. You seem a little out-of-it." Hank's voice softened as he looked over at the android who was busying himself moving eggs around in the pan without much reason. "Is everything okay?" 

"Everything is fine." Connor replied curtly, but there was no mistaking the lack of emotion in his voice. Hank chose not to push the subject any further for the moment. 

"So what are your thoughts on clubbing? Ticking an item off your list that wasn't even on there in the first place." 

"Well, I'm glad I've tried it" He mused. "Although I don't care to repeat it again. Too loud for me."

Hank felt his shoulders relax. That meant he wouldn't be dragged along to anymore exhausting neon nightclubs, which he was thankful for. 

"And it was all a bit shady really, wasn't it?" He made a face that Hank recognised - someone who had seen more than he was willing to remember. 

"Yeah, I have these vague memories of seeing Reed near enough fuck some dude in the middle of the club and that is something I do _not_ want to remember." He grimaced at the thought. 

"I'll drink to that." The android slid a glass of fruit juice over to Hank, who had seated himself at the dining table. "The food won't be much longer." 

"You shouldn't have, Con." 

He thought he noticed the man jolt, but he continued cooking after the momentary lapse as if nothing had happened. 

"Oh! There was something I wanted to ask you." He crossed the kitchen to pick up the newspaper, placing it on the table in front of him and flicking through the pages until he found what he was looking for, stopping to point at at half-page article on the artist Carl Manfred. "He has a showcase starting in town this weekend. I think it will be interesting."

Hank recalled the name. "Isn't that Markus' owne-uh, Father?" 

"That's right." Connor replied unphased, tapping his finger on the article again. "It says Markus is showcasing a piece of his art at the show too." 

"Didn't know androids could paint." Hank muffled as he took a sip of his drink.

"We can do whatever humans do Hank." Connor huffed. 

"Well yeah, but...nevermind. So you wanna go?" 

"I'd like to, if you'll come with me. I can go alone, but I thought it could loop in with one of my list items so if you'd like to come with me I'd be happy to have some company. I suppose a gallery isn't quite the same as a museum, but it's close." He smiled politely. 

"Sure. Says here the preview is this Thursday evening, how about we go to that?" 

"Great." The android smiled, before returning to the sizzling fry-up. 

\- - 

"I completely forgot how pretentious these fuckin' things are." Hank grumbled, pulling at the edge of his collar as they were each handed a glass of champagne upon entry to the gallery. 

"Its only pretentious if you want it to be, Hank." 

"That...doesn't even make any fucking sense Connor." He took a deep swig of the drink. 

"Oh, there's Markus." Connor manouvered around Hank to see the android who greeted him with a warm, humble smile. Hank felt a pang of jealousy until he noticed Connor pointing at him and motioning him over, so he downed the remainder of the drink, placing it on a tray held by a passing waiter as he went. 

"Lieutenant Anderson. I've heard so much about you." Markus greeted him with a curt handshake and a smile that Hank couldn't help think reminded him of a politician. All teeth and no emotion. 

"Likewise." He shook his hand with what he hoped came across as an authoritive grip. "Good to meet another member of the revolution. Glad you guys were able to make it work without violence. Not the path I would have chosen." 

"Indeed." There it was again, that smile that didn't quite reach the eyes. Hank was fucking it up and he knew it. 

"Hank was the one who encouraged me through my own deviancy, Markus. He put his life on the line for me, and for the lives of others of our kind before me." Hank felt the heat rise to his cheeks as Connor beamed at him with what almost looked like pride, as he talked Markus through their numerous near-death experiences in the midst of the Android Revolution. He winced when it came to the memory of the duplicate Connor. Not his proudest moment. 

"Well, Lieutenant, it seems we have a lot to be thankful for. Thank you for your service to the cause." He gave a polite nod, before turning his head to catch the eye of an older man in a wheelchair, beckoning him over. "Connor, Hank. This is Carl Manfred." 

"Thank you both for coming." The older man shook both of their hands, and Hank was relieved to see someone as unfazed by androids as him. "Good to see another of your kind here, Markus."

"Connor was instrumental to our freedom, Carl." Markus began, and before long Connor and the artist were deep in discussion, and before he knew it his partner was being led off to be personally shown around the exhibition, leaving him feeling somewhat sheepish in the company of Markus. 

"I uh, didn't mean to come across rude back there. I don't think violence was the way you should have gone. I admire it, what you did. I don't think I'd have the patience for it." He shuffled his feet, feeling like a kid apologising to a parent after getting detention. He had to be at least twice the man's age (android age aside), and here he was feeling like he was a badly behaved teenager. Markus had that air of confidence and leadership that was rare to come across, and he found he couldn't help but stumble at every hurdle when speaking to him, like he was taking a test he had no hopes of passing. 

"It's okay, I understand. The hardest paths to take are often the least simple, but usually the most rewarding." He glanced back at Manfred, watching as he pointed at a canvas as Connor looked on with wonder. "So, you and Connor remained close I see. I was surprised when he mentioned he was living with you, all things considered." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hank snapped. 

"It isn't supposed to mean anything. I just expected-" 

"What, you expected him to spend his time with other androids instead of a washed-up drunk? To leave his old job behind and find some kind of _purpose_ better suited to him?" 

"Thats not what I'm sayi-" 

"Well, no-one expected that more than _me_. I _know_ Connor deserves better friends, and I'm trying my damn best to get him to see that. I'm sure he'll come to that conclusion soon enough on his own anyway. But until that time comes, I'm not gonna abandon him. And sure, maybe you think I'm sullying him with my company and you think he should have more respectable friends but so long as he's happy I'll be there when he needs me. As long as he needs me around I'll be there. But like you implied, he can do better and I'm sure he'll figure that out soon enough-"

"Lieutenant Anderson that is _not_ what I was implying at all-" 

"I know exactly what you were implying and I'd much rather you kept it to yourself-" 

"Hank, perhaps we should get goi-" 

"No, I'm not finished talking to this fucking wise-ass-" 

" _Hank._ " Connor's firm voice stopped him in his tracks and he turned his head to see Connor standing beside him, his LED spinning violently red. "That's enough." 

"...shit." He muttered under his breath, turning and abruptly storming from the reception. He needed to get some fuckin' air. What was _with_ him today? 

In a failed attempt to find the exit, he followed a passageway into a small dimly lit corridor, the walls lined with a series of colourful portraits with expressive strokes. Realising he was probably deeper into the gallery than anywhere near an exit, he swore, knocking his head against the wall gently before slumping back against it and sliding onto the floor in a heap. What the _fuck_ had he even been saying? He wasn't sure why he'd gotten so carried away, but there was something about the smug way Markus eyed him up and down from the moment he arrived that had set him on edge, and the look he gave Connor like he was a fuckin' saint didn't help either. He let the word 'jealousy' rattle around in his mind and chose to ignore it. 

"...Hank?"

He looked up to see Connor leaning on the door frame to look around, before spotting him and lightly jogging towards him. 

"Hank are you okay, I was worried-" 

"It's fine Connor, fuck, I'm sorry. Tell your handsome friend I'm a fuckin' idiot for getting all worked up, I don't know what came over me." 

"He did mention something about you tearing him a new one." The younger man chuckled lightly, before leaning a hand against the wall and lowering himself to sit beside Hank. "I don't know what exactly he said to get you so riled up like that but it must have really upset you, so I'm sorry on his behalf." 

"Connor, you've got nothing to be sorry abo-" 

"No, I don't, but I want to help. Whatever he said struck a nerve, even if he didn't intend it to. There's no shame in admitting that." There was that stupid half-smile of his again, perhaps on someone else it would look like a smirk but on Connor it was near enough the most earnest expression he could give. Hank felt his insides turn to jelly and all of his anger melt away. 

"I still shouldn't have gone at him like that. I'm sorry for ruining your night." 

"You didn't." Hank thought he was near enough dreaming when he felt Connor slide closer to him, resting his head on his shoulder. "I learnt a lot tonight. Speaking to Carl was very insightful and inspiring, and I feel like I'm beginning to understand why people become so emotionally connected to art. Its fascinating." 

Hank remained quiet and unmoving, not daring let his eyes glance over towards Connor. He knew if he locked gazes with him he'd be a gonner. 

"And if all of that hadn't happened, we wouldn't be here now, in this moment, in this room." 

"Whaddya mean?" 

He felt a pang of sadness when Connor moved his head from his shoulder as he sat up fully, but didn't let on. 

"This is Markus' art in here." 

"It is?" 

"Yup." Connor smiled, looking across at the detailed expressive portraits on the wall opposite them. "It's not open to the public yet, but Carl was telling me about it. He's planned it as a surprise for Markus, and he's going to show him tonight after the reception. Markus began painting not long before the Revolution and continued to work on these after we gained our freedom. Carl sees it as a gift for all of the sacrifices he's made for the cause, and he thinks the rest of the world will benefit from seeing art by the android who led the Rebellion. I'm starting to see why he would think that."

Connor rose to his feet, offering a hand to Hank who took it, leading him towards the two portraits as he brushed the dust from his trousers. 

"Look at this one. This is a portrait he did of Carl when he was still his primary carer, before the Revolution." Hank looked closer at the image he was pointing at; a neon painting of the artist reading in a sun-lit corner. "And this one..." He moved towards the next line of paintings as Hank followed. "This is after." It was another portrait of Carl, this time the man was looking directly at the viewer, a proud smile spread across his face. 

Connor led him to a series of scribbles on faded paper lined up in a series of small frames, each one displaying a pencil drawing with loose lines. They depicted the same man; in one he was sitting with arms crossed, a look of intense focus on his face. In another, he was smiling privately, as though the artist had captured an intimate moment. In another, the man was laying in what looked to be a bed, covering his face with his hands and laughing. The series of drawings were intimate and heartfelt, compassionate. 

"This is Simon, Markus' partner. They met during the Revolution and formed a close bond. You may remember his face - he was part of the group that parachuted off the building after the broadcast." 

"Yeah, I remember." 

"Nice guy. Kind." Connor smiled to himself, and Hank found himself wanting to wrap his arms around him and pull him into a tight embrace, tell him how much he...no. It was silly to indulge such foolish ideas. He was simply caught up in the intimacy and privacy of the artwork, that was all it was. 

"Connor. Are you happy?" 

"Hm?" The android turned to face him quizzically. 

Hank cleared his throat. "Are you happy. Where you are. With your lot, in this world or, whatever."

"Yes." He responded, without a moments hesitation. 

"No, but are you _really_ happy?" 

"I'm not sure I follow, Hank." 

"Well..." He paused, running his fingers through the coarse hair on his chin. "You're free now. You can do whatever you like. But here you are, in the same city, doing the same job as you were before you were free. Hell, you're still spending all of your time with me. Don't you want to try something new? Start again?" 

"Start again?" 

"You know. Pack up, move somewhere new. New name, new life. You live now as a free man but do you feel free, when you're still doing the same things as you did before. Don't you want more? Because you _deserve_ more." 

Connor was quiet in thought for a moment, a hard frown crossing his expression as his eyes glazed over in deep thought. "Why is it you assume I'm not happy as things are?" 

"Because Detroit is a shit hole, for one." Connor laughed at that. "And you were built to be a Detective. I'm not sayin' you're not good at it, because you are." 

"I'm not good, Hank. I'm the _best_." 

"You know, I'm not sure how I feel about this whole android freedom thing because ever since you've been free you've gained a whole lot of fuckin' sass..." He playfully pushed at the younger man's shoulder as he sniggered. "Anyway, what I'm saying is, seems like you've just accepted your lot in life. You could be out enjoying yourself, discovering new things, making friends who don't drag you down, doing something because you like it, not just because you're good at it." 

Connor frowned. "If you're trying to suggest that you drag me down Hank, then-" 

"Just hear me out, Connor. You don't have to stay here if you don't want to. I just want you to know that you're free - to do whatever you want, and be whatever you want. Don't settle for what you already have because it's what you know. That's all I'm saying."

"While I appreciate the sentiment Hank, and I know it's coming from a well-meaning place, I'm not 'settling' as you call it." He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair to push the loose strands back across his face. "Perhaps it seems strange to you that I'd choose to stay exactly where I was before all of this - where people revered me, where they treated me as a sub-species. I understand that. And I understand its not for everyone. But I'm getting the chance to change people's viewpoints about me, just as I'm learning to change my own. I'm learning what it means to be free just as everyone around me is learning to respect me as a being - I don't want to quit and run and start again because everything I want is already right here in Detroit."

He stepped closer to Hank, resting a delicate hand on his arm. "I have a life here, one that I want to discover. It may not be perfect yet, but nothing is. Detroit is my home, even if it is a 'shit hole' as you say it is - and!-" Hank went to interupt him but Connor raised a hand to quiet him. "-it _is_ a shit hole, I know, I know." Hank chuckled, shooting the man a genuine grin. "But it's home. Detroit is where I became free. At the precinct, as your partner, as your _friend_ , I began to see my worth as something _more_ than just a soulless machine. I want to continue learning about that part of myself where I was first introduced to the notion. Hank, without your support and guidance maybe I wouldn't have ever deviated in the first place."

"I know you would have, Con." 

"You don't know that for certain." He replied, his voice faltering for a moment. "Besides, this is where I belong. Detroit, as a Detective, upholding the law with you as my partner - that's all I need. I'm happy." 

He squeezed Hank's arm as if to re-iterate his point further. "I promise. I'm exactly where I want to be." 

"...Okay." Hank shot him a lopsided smile and pulled an arm around his shoulder, leading them back out to the main gallery. "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long one, whewww. A quick note - I don't dislike Markus as a character, he's not one that resonates with me as strongly as the other leads in the game but I get the impression slightly anxious, paranoid, self-conscious Hank wouldn't necessarily get on with him that well. In this instance, it's a classic case of Hank making an assumption without any evidence to support it, which I thought would be fun to explore.
> 
> Anyway this chapter ended up being totally different to what I planned on writing but I hope you enjoyed it! As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated. Thank you for reading!


	8. Item #6 - Go to the cinema

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a slightly awkward interlude, Hank and Connor explore a few new list items.

"Whats next on that list of yours Connor? I know you've got it all mentally lined up in there." 

It had been a few weeks since their trip to the Manfred Exhibit, and Hank was fully aware of how much he'd tried to consciously avoid any other activities with Connor. He still spoke to him, he still treated him as kindly as he normally would (which, if he was being honest, wasn't very), but he didn't suggest they spend any of their free time together, and neither did Connor. It was almost like nothing had happened, as though they were back to being merely work colleagues and nothing more. Of course, there was the matter of them living together, and Hank couldn't avoid him forever due to that particular detail. But they flitted in and out of co-habitation in a way that allowed them little room for interaction outside of the necessary - no more late night movie sessions, no more group walks with Sumo.

Hank knew that was the reality of it. That was their relationship. He cared for Connor, and he knew Connor cared for him. That was normal. Partners in the police force often did bond immensely, it was part of the job. They could disagree, they could fight, but when it came down to it, they'd always have one another's backs. There was something of an unspoken bond - the mutual horrors of the job - that would tie colleagues in the field together emotionally, a mutually shared trauma. Hank knew this, and he had no doubts that if asked, Connor would confirm statistics stating as such. 

But that was not his relationship with Connor. He damn well knew it, deep down, in a part of him he chose to ignore, a part he buried with Cole and everyone else he'd ever made the mistake of caring for. It wasn't for him, this caring bullshit. He didn't have the emotional capacity to cope with it. Connor was no different; he could see which way the wind was blowing so he did what he always did when he started to care - he ignored, and he got drunk. 

If Connor had noticed (and he had no doubt he did), he chose not to comment on it. Hank assumed that, upon reflection, he'd realised he wasn't worth his time. Perhaps he had thought about what Markus had implied. Or maybe his embarrassing outburst at the show had made him see what Hank was really like. A fucking mess. And he'd be right. 

Hank had swallowed up his pride and apologised to Markus, calling at the expansive Manfred mansion one afternoon on his way back from the office. Markus had of course been cordial and offered for him to stay for a drink, which he politely declined. 

They had made small talk about the show, about work at the DPD and the android revolution, before the subject of Connor inevitably came up. Markus insisted that Hank let him speak, uninterrupted, explaining that he hadn't meant to rile him up at the gallery event, but was simply surprised that Connor had chosen to reside with Hank and remain in the precinct. Many other androids were aggressively shedding their past lives in order to allow themselves a fresh start - there was a psychological element to it, the need to start afresh. Markus had simply been surprised that Connor hadn't followed that pattern, especially as he was more recognisable in the public eye. Hank recalled seeing Connor marching towards the stand-off from Cyberlife Tower with a tow of newly freed androids and he remembered thinking at the time that it would cause a stir in the Precinct. 

Hank had simply shrugged his shoulders and confirmed that he'd already tried to talk to Connor about it, but the man had insisted it was where he wanted to be. Markus smiled politely and told him he was glad Connor had found his place - ever since he'd met him he'd been determined and confident in his sense of self, so it made some sense that he stayed. As Hank exchanged pleasantries and turned to leave, Markus called him back. 

"I know he's grateful for your care and friendship, Hank. You may not see it, but he cares for you deeply, and I know you return the feeling. Just don't bury those feelings before it's too late." 

Of course, Hank had done exactly what he was told _not_ to do. Burying his feelings was one of his strengths, after all. So he took himself somewhat by surprise when he blurted about Connor's list to him, reigniting that element of their relationship. Which no doubt meant throwing him back into pining hopelessly for Connor and dealing with the multitude of feelings of shame and guilt that came over him whenever he thought too much about it. 

"Well, the other items we agreed on seem a little outlandish - and perhaps a little longer term. I was thinking about other, more short-term achievable items I could add to the list. Now that I've had a chance to experiment with a few, I believe I'm beginning to understand the kinds of things that would be beneficial to me." 

"Like what?" 

"I'd like to see a movie at a cinema. From my reading, this seems to be a experience that is more engrossing then watching on a home entertainment system. Now that I've experienced going to a club, I think I should probably go to a party - although I can't plan that as such. I also think I'd like to find a hobby of some kind, to fill my spare time."

"Hmm. Good suggestions. Everyone needs a hobby." 

"That's what my research suggests. Additionally, it gives me something to focus on without the need for your accompanyment, which will allow you some space from me, which I'm sure you need. I'm fully aware my presence can be overwhelming."

"Ha." Hank stifled a huff of a laugh. "You're telling me." He looked across at the androids face, which was deadly serious, before stepping closer to him and clapping a hand on his neck. "Hey, I was joking. You may be a little goofy but I don't have any issues with a friend who's a living, breathing Wikipedia." 

"Wikipedia hasn't been around since the mid noughties Hank, you're showing your age." He could feel the smirk on the man's lips without having to look up, and he playfully karate-chopped the back of his neck. 

"Fuck you too. So we going to see a movie later or what?" 

\- - - 

The local cinema was as run down as Hank remembered it; an element of its original early 1900's charm remained in the high ceilings and expansive foyers but it was clear the building was in much need of a new lick of paint. Since the dawn of digital, the physical venues had seen a steep decline, only really salvaged by die-hard purists who kept 'the art of cinema' alive. While Hank couldn't claim to frequent the place, there was something about seeing a film on the big screen that made him feel nostalgic and wistful for the days of his youth. 

He was thrilled to see the cinema was holding some kind of classics season, with a few older films he considered to be much better than the 'nonsense they put out these days'. Connor listened to him rant about the old days with surprising patience, seemingly lost in thought. When it came to looking at what was showing that evening, he begrudgingly decided it was probably unwise to show Connor _Blade Runner_. After all, it might be a little too close to the mark. Instead, he opted for an action movie of no real significance, something new that would at least allow them to both watch something completely fresh. 

Connor was, of course, insistent on doing the 'full cinema experience' , so he encouraged the overwhelmed staff member to list all of the bundle deals, and purchased popcorn and a drink even though he wasn't really quite made to consume either. As they found their seats he donated both to Hank, who mumbled something under his breath about it being the cheapest date he'd ever been on.

"Do you consider this a date?" Connor asked quizzically, grabbing a piece of popcorn and tossing it in his mouth, furrowing his features as he contemplated the taste. 

Hank damn near spat out the overpriced, watered down cola he was drinking before muffling his excuses and how he was just fucking about. But now that he thought about it...

"Connor, have you ever even been on a date?" 

"Of course not" he replied with a bit too much of a defensive bite. 

"Alright, jeez, no need to get so touchy, I was just asking. Would you even know what to do if a nice young lady expressed an interest in you?" 

Connor was silent for a moment before responding. "I would hope it wasn't a nice _lady_ if I'm being quite honest. And no, I wouldn't know what to do, so you are welcome to enlighten me."

Hank felt heat pooling at the bottom of his chest and ignored the feeling of warmth rising across his cheeks at the androids brazen honesty. "Well. Damn." He stuttered a bit, pushing his hair absent mindedly back before he continued. "So you're taking some nice _man_ out on a date to the cinema. What do you do first?" 

There was that face again - like the coggs were whirring but the ideal solution wasn't presenting itself to him, as Connor sat with a stern look of concentration across his face. 

"I'd...watch the movie?" 

"Jesus, Connor!" Hank howled a little too loud as someone shushed him. Jesus, who shushes during the adverts? 

"Wrong answer?" He replied meekly. 

"You're damn right wrong answer! Connor, there is a _delicate_ art to courting and I'm mortified that you aren't at least remotely aware of it." 

"So explain it to me." The android huffed, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back against the seat. 

"Y'see, the cinema is the perfect venue for a date. It's casual if you want it to be, but asides from liquid courage, it's a good place to try and be a little bit bolder than you normally would if you catch my drift." 

"I don't follow." 

"Well..." Hank sighed. "Think about it. You're sat in a dark room, you can't really see anyone or anything. You can't see their eyes for one. It's less intense." 

"So what you're saying is the absence of light gives you more courage in a potentially anxiety-inducing situation?" 

"Sure. It's much less terrifying taking a leap of faith." 

Connor murmers something under his breath, and Hank halts his lesson as the lights dim and the title card unfolds across the screen. 

They were barely fifteen minutes into the film when he was immediately pulled out of the immersion by a sharp, unnatural sound beside him. He turned his head to gawk at a Connor just in time to see him reaching an arm around Hank's shoulder before pulling it abruptly away when he was met with a scowl. 

"This is what they do in the movies, right?" 

"Yeah, but you're an android Connor. I know you don't sleep, therefore you don't _yawn_. Doesn't quite have the same effect." 

"Oh." Connor pulled his hovering arm back across to himself before placing both hands on his lap gingerly.

"Well, look, that was a bit much sure, and I don't think you'd be convincing anyone with a move like that. But you can do this." Hank kept his eyes on the screen unmoving, but trailed a hand across the armrest to intertwine his fingers with Connor's, feeling the heat rising in his chest again.

"See, for a human this is perfect. No eye contact, no fear of rejection, and hard for it to be misconstrued. If someone does this they're probably into you, so it's easier to know where you stand."

"I see." The other man replied calmly. 

Was he a creep for doing this? Hank knew he was getting a thrill out of holding Connor's hand, the feeling of unexpectedly warm, soft skin against his callous old hands was soothing and, if he was being honest, a little exhilarating. He couldn't see himself stumbling into an opportunity like this again, and he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth - even if it was a _really_ creep gift horse.

"The obvious thing here would be if they pull away or say something then they're probably not into it. But even outside of that, you still wanna make sure this is something they want. As an android you'll probably have a bit of an advantage, but body language is important. How would you be able to tell if I was or wasn't into this?" Shit. Probably shouldn't have referred to himself in the first person.

"Elevated heart rate, excessive sweating. Although neither is conclusive as to which side of the coin they're on."

"Good. What else?"

"Perhaps a return of affection, a positive affirmation of comfort. So if I was to do this-" Connor tightened the grip on his hand, squeezing it. "-would that be considered _'into it'_?"

Hank detected a hint of anxiety in the androids slightly faltering voice and he knew his wasn't going to sound much better. "Y-yeah, that works. What else?"

"Perhaps if I were to lean into you, to confirm I am not only comfortable with the situation but I welcome it, this would be sufficient?" Hank wasn't sure when Connor had started referring to the situation as though _he_ was the one positively responding to emotions, but the feeling of the android leaning in closer and resting his head on his shoulder took him completely out of his head space and back into reality. He could feel Connor's shallow breath dancing across the edge of his skin, and was acutely aware he still held the man's hand in his. 

"Yeah, I think that would be...sufficient." Hank mumbled, tensing under Connor's weight even though he really had no reason to. Just two friends cuddling. Nothing weird about it. There was nothing to it. 

"What next?" Connor whispered, turning his head slightly from the position on Hank's shoulder to look up at him, his deep brown eyes filled with...longing? Hank cursed the fact that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, allowing him to see the man's glassy chesnut pupils boring into his. 

Hank's voice was barely a whisper now. "Well, I mean if you like em, and you think it's returned, it might be a good idea to kiss them." 

Hank couldn't stop himself from running a finger along the sharp jawline of the android, stopping at his chin and gripping it with a thumb and finger to turn Connor's head towards him. To his surprise, Connor lifted his head from his side and leant in closer. They locked eyes, and Hank couldn't help but feel as though Connor's darting pupils were trying to search his for something - understanding? _Permission?_

And just like that, Hank was pulled right back into reality, and the moment was over. A loud crack across the screen startled them both, and he dropped his hand swiftly from Connor's chin, gaze downcast, turning back in his seat to look at the screen. "So yeah, that's what you'd do. Do you uh, think that covers it?"

"I believe it does." Connor responded quietly, turning his head away from him and back to the screen as he straightened his back and pulled his hand away from Hank's grip (he'd somehow forgotten they were still holding hands). 

Neither spoke for the remaining duration of the film, and the next day when a young officer making small talk asked what the film was about, Hank couldn't recall, so preoccupied he'd been with holding on to the look of firey intensity in Connor's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the remaining list items included things like going on holiday, I figured I'd add in a few extras that were a bit more feasible.
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Comments and kudos are appreciated :)


	9. Item #7 - Go to a party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor drags Hank to a work party, and there is change in the wind. Connor has a few new things he'd like to try.

When they returned from the cinema and Hank said goodnight, retreating his room with barely a word spoken, Connor found himself perched on the sofa in the living room, staring into the blank television screen as Sumo lightly snored in the background and erratic thoughts buzzed through his mind

Hank had almost _kissed_ him - of that he was certain. There was no denying it - even for someone as emotionally inexperienced as Connor - he had leaned in, cupped his chin and looked him dead in the eye with something that flitted between nervousness and want. He could feel Hank's heart beating at a significantly higher bpm than was expected (although thankfully not enough to be a health concern), and the slight clamminess of his hand as it gripped his firmly seemed to indicate nerves, as did the bobbing of his Adams Apple a moment before he leaned in.

But this was not what puzzled and concerned Connor. No. It was the fact that immediately afterwards he shrugged it off as though nothing had happened, and he didn't mention it at all. In fact, Hank had barely spoken a word since that moment. They had gone back to their dance of avoidance around the house that Connor had so despartely hoped was finally coming to an end. Things had been strange since the gallery, and Connor _knew_ Hank had apologised to Markus - Markus had told him as such. He had wanted to thank him, to tell him it was unecesaary but that he appreciated the gesture - but Hank had not mentioned it, so Connor chose not to address what he perhaps considered a private conversation. The opportunity never came up anyway, with Hank's near radio silence leaving little room for conversation. He'd suspected the silent treatment was concluded when Hank had asked him about their list again (as much as Hank referred to it as 'his' list, Connor very much considered it a joint effort), and then the cinema happened and...well. Here he was, sat staring blankly into a black mirror, the faint reflection of his frame peering back at him across the matted screen.

Was it something he'd done? Or perhaps something he _hadn't_ done? Hank had said it himself, Connor didn't really act correctly when it came to courtship. And Connor had somewhat hoped that their cinema trip would finally be the thing to break their silence. He peered closer at his reflection, observing his appearance in the dim light of the living room. He knew Cyberlife had designed him to appear conventially attractive, with a sturdy, well-built frame and soft, non-intimidating features to provoke a warm response in tense situations. He wasn't certain if Hank found him attractive from a personal standpoint, although he couldn't deny that the hope that he did lingered in his mind often. He had observed Hank sneaking glances at him when he thought Connor wasn't paying attention, and all things considered, this did seem to suggest that Hank, in some capacity, found him appealing to look at.

But Hank had stopped what could have been their impending physical contact, and had not made any further attempts at pursuing it. And as Hank always did, he had buried his head in the sand and acted as if nothing had happened. Perhaps Hank had been caught in the moment before reality hit him and he realised he was not interested. Or perhaps the feeling of Connor's firm android skin had reminded him what the man he was caressing really was - not flesh and bone but metal and bio-components. Or maybe it was none of those - perhaps Connor was the one who'd been blissfully caught up in the moment, maybe it was him reading the situation wrong and it was nothing but two close friends sharing a moment that at first glance would seem tender, but in reality was a teacher demonstrating to a pupil. After all, the clammy palms, elevated heart rate and deep breaths could just be inconsequential.

Connor closed his eyes, and replayed the moment in his head one more time, in the hopes he could gain some further clarity, but came up empty. He found himself zoning in on Hank's eyes, studying the faint specs of silver that shone at the edge of pale blue pupils. The gentle slant of his eyelids, the smooth curve of his nose, his slightly parted lips, dotted with the tiniest patch of saliva that Connor knew came from him licking the edge of his lip a few moments before. He recalled the feeling of his thumb and finger resting on the edge of his chin, drawing him in closer, and the rough texture of aged skin against his smooth artificial hand. And the more he looked closer, the more he focused on his partners intricate details and features, the more he realised the inevitable, terrifying truth - he was in love with Hank Anderson. 

\- -

Hank awoke the following morning with a dull throbbing feeling at the base of his skull - he didn't remember drinking last night, but...oh. He glanced at the bedside table, and recalled his embarrassment and shame from the night before, followed by his early retreat to bed and drinking alone in the privacy of his bedroom without Connor's probing questions. He had needed the peace and quiet, and the thought of the android asking him questions about their near-encounter at the movies was too much for him to bear. Maybe tomorrow, he'd thought, as he downed the remainder of the bottle he kept in his bedside drawer. But tomorrow had arrived, and all he had to show for it was a stiff hangover and a continued reluctance to address what had (nearly happened). 

When he eventually pulled himself out of the bed into the kitchen, he was surprised to find Connor perched on the edge of the sofa, head down, hands clasped together as his arms rest on his knees, deep in concentration. 

"Didn't you slee-uh, go into stasis last night?" 

"No." 

Hank huffed. "What the hell were you doing then?" 

"Processing." 

"...riiiight." Hank didn't have time for moody teenage android this morning. One word answers from Connor were not a frequent occurrence, and he could only assume he was insulted by his near enough assault on his mouth from the night before. He must know. And he must feel _disgusted_. 

"Look, about last night-" 

"It's fine." Connor shot back, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

"Yeah, but I didn't mean to-" 

"Of course you didn't." He sighed, resigned. Was there a hint of bitterness in his voice? "It's not a problem." 

"Okay. Well, if you're sure. I'm uh, I'm sorry, either way." 

"You're forgiven. And we're forty minutes behind schedule, so I suggest you shower quickly before Fowler has both of our badges." 

Hank smiled awkwardly, giving Connor a salute before retreating to the bathroom. 

\- - 

The following week, the inevitable posters started going up around the Precinct - the annual Fall party, that Hank annually chose not to attend. He considered it a tradition, his recurring absence, so why break that? Nothing but a bunch of people floating around in the smartest outfits they could muster, getting drunk and making uncomfortable small talk. It wasn't for him. 

Or course, Connor had complicated that arrangement. When he spotted the first poster, his eyes lit up, and he turned back to speak to Hank before his enthusiasm wilted upon seeing his disgruntled expression. Unsurprisingly, Hank mumbled that he'd think about it, which brought a hearty smile to the younger man's face once again. 

Evidently, Connor had interpreted 'thinking about it' as a firm yes, and he had informed the party committee to expect them both, as well as confirming that Hank had no particular dietary requirements. He frowned when the confirmation envelope arrived on his desk, with an address and dress code. 

"Guess we're goin' then" He muttered, shoving the crumpled envelope into his pocket as they headed out to that days crime scene. 

Connor spent the entire car ride (a meager 20 minutes that felt closer to an hour) asking Hank what previous parties were like, were there any social etiquette programmes he should follow, was he expected to bring anything, would the new tuxedo he'd purchased be considered an appropriate outfit...Hank _had_ informed him that he'd not been to one of the damn parties before - ever - but that did little to dissuade Connor's incessant questions. Huh, perhaps that tux had finally come in handy after all. 

The night of the party rolled in quicker than expected - and Hank found himself scrambling through his wardrobe trying to find something that could marginally fit the 'dinner party' dress code. His faded retro shirts and scuffed khaki trousers just weren't gonna cut it. Alerted by the cursing, Connor knocked on the door and informed him that he need not worry, he had ordered him a selection of formal outfits from a tailor in town that he hoped would be to Hank's tastes - as he'd known it was unlikely he would have anything suitable in his wardrobe. 

Hank sighed. "Alright. Bring 'em in." 

Connor returned with a handful of hangers holding a selection of shirts, suit trousers, ties, and jackets. He hadn't lied about bringing a selection; there were a mixture of different collars, cuts and colours - thankfully all to Hank's measurements (he tried not to think too hard about _how_ Connor had come about those measurements). He shooed the man out of the room so he could try them on, eventually settling on a matte grey shirt with a slightly open collar (there was no way Hank was wearing a fuckin' tie no matter how many kooky designs Connor had found), a pair of straight black trousers, and a matching black jacket. Nothing to write home about, but as he looked in the mirror Hank noted he at least looked passably okay, and substantially smarter than he usually scrubbed up. Scratching at his beard, he changed out of the formal attire back into his work clothes, heading into the bathroom to see what he could do about his untamed scruff of facial hair. 

\- - - 

"Hank, are you ready to go?" Connor called out, wrapping on the door of the older man's room with urgency. They were already late and Hank had spent what felt like an eternity in the bathroom, before scuffling off to the bedroom. Connor assumed falsely that getting into a suit was simple work, and he'd waited patiently for Hank to emerge, eyeing the ticking clock with displeasure. But enough was enough. Just _how_ long did he intend on hiding in his room? 

"Alright alright, jeez. Just gimme 2 more minutes."

"We don't _have_ two more minutes Hank. Please?" 

Connor's ears pricked at the exasperated sigh that came from behind the door, and it opened to reveal...oh. He found himself startled by Hank's appearance. Perhaps he was beginning to understand what people said about 'anyone looking good in a suit', although he was positive no-one would look quite as good as Hank did. 

To top it off, he'd clearly spent his time locked in the bathroom _actually_ grooming, because his beard was trimmed back, left at a subtle short stubble, and his hair was pulled back into a loose bun. Connor felt thirium rush to his cheeks as he took in the sight before him. Hank looked...really good. 

"Damn, Connor. You look great." Hank shuffled his feet, running a hand across the back of his unusually exposed neck nervously, a small anxious smirk crossing his lips. "You're gonna show an old man like me up showing up looking like that." 

"Hardly. You don't scrub up too bad yourself, Lieutenant." Connor gave him a trademark wink - they always seemed to throw Hank off-guard - and hoped he at least sounded as casual and relaxed as intended. In reality he could feel nerves settling in; something he'd only experienced a few times since Deviancy, the worst time being when they...no. He wasn't going to think about what-if's tonight. 

The cab ride to the venue passed without incident, although Connor couldn't help but notice as the Lieutenant fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt more often than was strictly necessary. He felt a momentary pang of guilt as they entered the building, hoping Hank wouldn't hate him for dragging him along. 

They handed in their invites at the entrance, and Connor marvelled at the bright lights draped across the wooden ceiling panels, long tables lining the room. He was thankful he and Hank had been sat next to one another, he hoped it would make the man less anxious about the social element of the evening. Unfortunately as soon as they found their places, it was clear they'd also been sat close to Detective Reed. As the perpetually rude man stumbled to his seat, already a few drinks in, he made his displeasure at the seating arrangement clear. 

"Ugh, can't believe they sat me next to phuckin' Robocop and Sarah Connor."

"Good to see you too, Detective Reed." Connor drawled. 

"You're already so drunk that you're getting your pop culture references mixed up Reed. And here I thought I was the drunk." Hank sniggered, only to be met with a lazy middle finger. 

"Phuck you. Surprised you even showed up at all, Anderson. What was it, did your robot _pet_ ask you to come?" Reed retorted. 

Connor felt himself tense where his muscles would be if he was human. Post Deviancy, tolerating Reeds outbursts was harder to bear. He tightened his fist under the table to avoid confronting the man with physical aggression. 

To his surprise, Hank laughed. "At least someone _wants_ me to be here Gavin. What's your excuse?" 

Connor felt a hand under the table sliding onto his closed fist, giving it a squeeze. "How about we just agree to stay out of each others way and enjoy ourselves for one night, yeah?" 

The Detective scowled in return, opening his mouth to speak and closing it again when the firm hand of Chief Fowler landed on his shoulder. "I trust we're all getting along swimmingly and Detective Reed is not causing any trouble?" 

"Nope, no trouble here Jeffrey." Hank replied, sickly sweet. "Reed was just telling us all how much he's happy to see us both here and how he can't _wait_ to work with more Androids at work." Connor felt another squeeze of his hand as Hank looked back at him, shooting him a knowing grin. "Isn't that right, Gavin?" 

"...I'm getting another drink." The man muttered, rising to his feet abruptly and sliding past Fowler towards the bar. Fowler simply gave the pair a cursorary nod, before moving further along the table to talk to some of the other attendees. 

Connor felt Hank squeeze his hand again before going to pull away, but with quick presicion he grabbed his hand and pulled in back to interlace with his. Hank looked at him with surprise, and Connor simply returned a half smile. 

\- - - 

Hank had made it abundantly clear that dancing was simply not his thing, whether it was throwing it down in the club or a light waltz. Like most, he could be forgiven for swaying his hips around to a favourite song in the privacy of his own home, and he didn't doubt Connor had caught sight on a few occasions. But when Connor had motioned him to dance with him when a slower song started, palm outstretched, he couldn't bring himself to say no. And when the android's hands rest lightly on his waist as they swayed, and he found himself balancing himself with a firm grip on his upper arms, well...who could blame him? It was a party after all. 

He'd at least had enough sense to reign his drinking for the night, especially after seeing the state Gavin was in. Asides from him appearing a sloppy mess whenever he appeared, Hank knew a few drinks in and he'd be starting a fight with him - if Reed was in the mood, and he was in the mood, there was no way it wouldn't end in a scuffle. It wouldn't be the first time. So Hank slowly slipped the complimentary cheap wine, and followed up with a light soda, which Connor seemed puzzled by. He simply shrugged his shoulders in return before taking a sip of the depressingly tame drink. 

Connor seemed to be enjoying himself either way, pulling him into conversations whenever possible with a leading hand on the small of his back. Hank was surprised to find the experience far less unsavoury than he'd expected it to be; everyone was in good spirits, and he was pleased to see that no-one appeared to be giving Connor a hard time. Whenever he felt himself faltering, he would feel Connor's palm rubbing circles into the small of his back and all of his anxiety would melt away. 

He recalled his conversation with Markus and grimaced internally, trying his best to allow his face to remain an impassive neutral. He'd known for a while that he was impossibly in love with Connor. He knew now there was no use fighting it. Every smile, ever touch, risked sending him over the edge. He'd long since given up on reasoning with it - it was a part of him now, intrinsically intertwined with his personality. Being in love with Connor had become a character trait, and despite the frequent intrusive thoughts reminding him that Connor was not interested (his disgust after the cinema trip was obvious), he couldn't help but cling onto their little moments together. Connor knew he was attracted to him. He didn't know he was in love with him. And the longer he could keep it to himself, the longer he could enjoy these harmless, platonic moments, and imagine they were more. 

If there was a god, which Hank knew there wasn't, he'd curse him for throwing Connor into a fucking tux and parading him around in front of him like a fucking five course gourmet meal. 

A gentle tug at the edge of his jacket pulled him back out of his mind, and he felt Connor leaning into his ear, whispering that he would like to leave. Hank nodded obidiently, and they said their goodbyes before jumping into the first available cab. 

\- - - 

They were welcomed home by a friendly 'boof' from Sumo, who Connor, of course, fussed like they'd been away for weeks. Various murmers of 'good boy' and 'best boy' brought a smile to Hank's lips as he collapsed on the sofa, removing his jacket and throwing it on the back of the seat. Before long, Connor had joined him, carefully removing his own jacket and loosening the bow tie he'd tied with precision mere hours before. 

"You enjoy your first party?"

"Very much so." Connor sighed wistfully, resting his head back against the sofa and closing his eyes. "It was fun."

"Yeah." Hank mused. "I guess it was."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful quiet of the living room save from Sumo's wheezing. It was Hank who eventually broke the silence.

"So, you're near the end of that list now Connor. How does it feel?"

"I don't know." The android returned, his voice slightly hoarse, eyes still closed. "It's been enjoyable, and eye opening, but there are still things I'm not convinced I fully understand that are intrinsically part of the human experience."

"Hm?"

"There is something-" Connor murmured, taking a sharp intake of breath before opening his eyes and moving swiftly forward, shuffling closer to Hank until their legs were less than an inch apart. "-that I was curious about."

"Yeah?" Hank found himself near breathless being so close to Connor like this. The intimacy of it surprised him. He hadn't panicked and moved away yet. Why was that?

"I've yet to experiment with...intimacy." His voice hitched slightly, as though he was nervous about the words barely escaping his mouth. Did androids even get nervous, Hank wondered. Humans did. An involuntary sound escaped his mouth, and he took a sharp intake of breath.

Connor moved his hands up from the recliner, slowly testing the waters as he raised fingers up to gently graze Hank's hair, tucking a stray strand behind his ear. He shuddered at the touch, a strangled sound escaping his throat again. God, he was like a fuckin' teenager.

He finally found the courage to speak again. "What uh...what was it you wanted to try out?"

The androids hazel orbs bore into him, the pupils darting down momentarily to his lips before making eye contact again. "Well. I was thinking I've yet to experience _kissing._ "

"Huh" was all Hank could muster.

"I've been told it's something better experienced with someone you have _genuine_ affection for-" He started, letting his fingers trail down Hank's cheek as the man shuddered to the touch. "-someone you _trust_. If I'm to understand correctly, it can be a very...." He paused, and holy shit, did he just see the tiniest glimpse of Connor's tongue darting out to lick his lips? "...exhilarating experience."

Hank swore under his breath. "You were told that, huh." 

It was hardly a question. Hank could see the way Connor was shaping him up and the smooth feel of cold metal dancing along his jawline was a startling reminder that no, he wasn't reading this situation wrong and this really was happening. Hank instinctively moved a hand to Connor's thigh, slowly sliding it up from the knee until it rested just by his waist. He felt the man shiver slightly at his touch. "Well, perhaps I can uh...help you a little with that..." He rasped. Hank was startled by the mental reminder that he was stone cold sober. 

Connor dipped his head lightly, a small blue rising to his cheeks. "I must confess, I'm a little nervous. This isn't something I was programmed to understand very well. How does it work?" The android began circling his thumb along Hank's jawline, and he couldn't help but close his eyes and let out a small sigh. He wasn't sure if Connor was just playing dumb or if he genuinely didn't know. He was about to find out, either way. 

"Well, it's quite simple..." Hank whispered, moving his hand up Connor's waist, stopping at the small of his back. "...nothin' to be nervous about." He shot the other man a lopsided smile, which Connor returned, a darker blush settling across his cheeks. "Do you want me to...?" 

"I do, _so_ much-" 

Hank's lips collided with Connor's as soon as the desperate phrase left his lips, and he felt the man let out a hum of satisfaction as his hands cupped his cheeks, pulling him in closer as plush lips rolled across his. Hank was unable to suppress the moan of satisfaction that escaped him when he felt Connor begin exploring with his tongue, and he deepened the kiss in return, pulling his body closer to him. He kept the pace slow, not wanting to scare him off, but responded with enough passion to make his enthusiasm for the android perfectly clear. 

When he involuntarily bucked his hips upwards, Connor responded by climbing into his lap, refusing to break the kiss. Surprised, Hank reluctantly pulled his lips away just as a smooth hand grazed across the ache between his legs. "Con, you don't hav-" 

"No, but I want to." The deep irises of his eyes very much suggested he was telling the truth, but Hank persisted, despite the man's lustful stare. 

"And that's great, but I don't want you to move too fast on my account. You're new to this, and I'm not goin' anywhere." He leant forward, resting his forehead on the androids with a gentle knock. "We can take our time." 

"That may be so," Connor started, smiling as he tilted his head to whisper into his ear. "But I've been doing my research, Lieutenant. And I have a few intriguing techniques I'd like to try on this _problem_ of yours..." Hank was unable to suppress a moan as the man ground against him with his hips, before nipping at his ear, the warm heat of his breath making him shudder as his tongue delicately ran across the lobe. 

"Well in that case..." Hank growled, swooping forward, pulling Connor up by the base of his thighs and lifting him up so he was straddling him- "...we'd better get problem solving." 

With Connor's arms wrapped tightly around his neck he began carrying the man towards his bedroom, briefly stopping to throw him up against a wall, sucking on his neck hungrily and grinding his hips furiously into him after Connor had begun to list some of the techniques he was hoping to 'try out' on him. Trust Connor to start methodically listing sexual activities as though they were items on a shopping list, yet the action filled Hank with unbearable lust all the same. He was met with a deep and passionate kiss when his mouth moved upwards, the younger man letting out a visceral moan that made Hank even more aroused.

Refusing to break the kiss, Hank moved away from the wall and carried Connor to his room, throwing the man down onto his bed before slamming the door firmly shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT - sorry I really didn't proof read this, I've made some grammar changes now. Whoops. 
> 
> I told you I wouldn't leave you hanging longer after that last chapter! :') So I've had the kiss written since the first moment I started writing this fic, I'm so happy to finally have it integrated into the story.
> 
> You can probably guess that were nearly at the end now, but I hope this is forming up to be a satisfying conclusion. 
> 
> As always, comments, kudos etc very much appreciated. Please share this fic in your communities, with your buddies, your dog, your neighbour...


	10. A Conclusion.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Hank reflect on a night of passion and feelings shared.

Hank was awoken by soft light filtering through the curtains, and as he moved an arm to cover his face he was suddenly struck with the realisation that he was not alone. A warm smile crept across his lips as he looked down to see Connor draped across his chest, practically glowing in the sunlight, hazel locks of hair falling gently across his forehead. He knew the man didn't sleep, but he assumed he'd gone into stasis after...well. He felt an initial pang of embarrassment when he realised they were both still undressed, but it soon faded when he recalled the night previous events.

\- -

"Hank. _Look at me._ "

He felt smooth fingers graze his chin, turning his head back towards Connor who was hovering over him, his firm gaze and slightly flushed cheeks forbidding him from turning away. He was struck once again by the man's unimaginable beauty - his eyes following the smooth line of his collarbone down to his exposed chest, an occasional scattering of moles dancing across his stomach. He found himself locked onto the man's trousers, top button unhooked revealing the lightest hint of chestnut hair.

"Hank. Tell me what's on your mind."

"I was just thinking about how fuckin' gorgeous you are" He replied, leaning into the man's touch. "And how totally undeserving I am of you." He felt the fingers against his chin flinch.

"I don't know where you've got this idea of being 'undeserving' from Hank, but I refuse to allow you to think that way. It's simply not true." Connor's eyes held some sadness in them, and Hank felt ashamed that he was the cause of it. "Perhaps I should be frank with you. My time so far as a free being has been difficult; adjusting has been a challenge. But _you've_ been there for me, through every hurdle and every inconvenience. You've not just been a mentor or a friend, you've been more than that to me, _so_ much more. I need you to understand the depth of feeling I have for you. Regardless of your own opinions of yourself. Does that make my intentions clear?"

"I guess, but you're still so young and positive and...ugh." Hank put his head in his hands. "Don't you wanna do this with someone younger? Better looking? Not just some old drunk who has breakdowns every other week?" 

"Hank." Connor replied, his voice husky and low. He smoothly pulled the hand away from his cheek, sitting up on his chest so he was straddling him. Here we go, Hank thought. The inevitable 'this is just a one time thing' talk. "Are you uncomfortable with the prospect of me as a lover because I'm an android?" 

"What? No, of course I'm not!" The question took the man by surprise, his answer flustered. His hands moved up to grip Connor's thighs, as though that would add weight to his answer. 

"Okay, so how about if I wasn't _'gorgeous'_ , as you put it. If I looked different, would you still be here with me, like this, now?" He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, resting his hands on Hank's stomach, expression hardened and firm. 

"Yes. Fuck, _yes_ , of course I would Connor." 

Connor's stare softened, and he smiled. "Well, that's how I feel about you." Hank felt his heart near enough stop in his chest, and he moved his hands up to slide across Connor's, linking their fingers together. "Do you understand?" 

"I think I do, yeah. C'mere." Connor's smile broke into a full blown grin, and he leant back down as Hank's hands cupped his cheeks, leaning in for a passionate kiss. 

"Let me show you just how much I appreciate you." Connor murmered in his ear, and Hank felt like his heart was going to explode in his chest. 

\- - - 

Connor felt his software begin to boot up, and as his eyes opened, light flooding his vision. What had awoken him from stasis was the sensation of Hank brushing some stray hair from his face, and he found himself greeted by a sight that made him feel like his core was going to melt. Hank was gazing back at him as he lay draped across his chest, an arm around him in a tight embrace, and a warm smile playing across his lips. Connor couldn't help but smile back at the sight - oh, if this was a sight he could see every day he would _never_ tire of it.

"Morning, Con. How you feeling?" Hank sounded husky and a little hoarse, he detected, so he must have not been awake for long himself. The deep baritones of his voice made Connor's thirium pump flutter, and he couldn't help but think it was one of the most sensual things he'd ever heard. _One_ of them, at least.

\- - -

There was something to be said about intimacy with someone experienced for the first time, Connor thought, as Hank moaned above him as he made his way downwards, leaving delicate kisses on the man's chest. There was something so private about this moment he shared with Hank, the sheer trust involved in seeing someone so vulnerable and uninhibited was both thrilling and perhaps a little intimidating. He really hoped what he was about to do would have the effect he desired, but if Hank's current state was anything to go by, he felt confident it would result in a positive conclusion. 

As he slowly began to unbutton the man's trousers, he felt firm hands grip his head, massaging his scalp, fingertips digging in. The mixture of pain and pleasure was new to Connor, but he could tell straight away he was 'into it', as Hank might say.

"Con, you're killing me here with this teasin'."

"Isn't that the point of teasing, Hank?" He mused, lifting his head up slightly to glance at the crimson faced man above him. "If you'd prefer I stop, then-" 

"No!" He barked, before his voice grew quiet and desperate. " _Don't_ stop." 

"I won't." Connor replied, a hum of satisfaction leaving his lips as he ran his tongue down the man's navel, stopping just shy of his trousers. "But please tell me if I'm not quite doing this right. I want to make sure you're happy, Hank." 

"Trust me, Connor." Hank replied, his voice strained. "I'm more than fuckin' happy with whatever you do." 

"Let's find out." Connor replied curtly as he pulled the man's trousers off, discarding them on the floor. 

The sound Hank made next was one Connor knew he would be replaying to himself in his head over and over again. 

_\- - -_

"Great. Did you sleep well?" 

"Mhm" Hank mumbled, leaning into Connor and greeting him with a chaste kiss on the lips. "I don't think I've slept that well in _years_." 

The blush that rose to Connor's cheeks when their lips met made Hank's heart do backflips. There was just something about the way Connor received affection from him that was damn beautiful, and it made him want to shower him with kisses and sweet nothings at every possible moment. 

"I'm glad." The younger man cooed, leaning into the embrace more and resting his chin on Hank's chest. "What did you want to do today? We have the day off." 

"Well, I was hoping we could just stay in bed, like this." He replied, pulling the man in closer. "Last night was fuckin' amazing, Con. If you were to tell me now you'd changed your mind about the whole thing I don't know what I'd do." He ran his hand through the man's soft locks as he spoke. 

"Nothing has changed. I've never been more certain." 

Hank grinned against Connor's lips as he pulled him in for another kiss. 

_\- -_

"How long have you felt this way, Con?" Hank asked breathlessly as he pulled Connor into a tight embrace. 

"I can't pinpoint when exactly. I knew from the first moment we met that I found you to be _curious_. I knew I wanted to find out more about you. I denied myself emotions for so long, but I think deep down it was there from the beginning." 

"Mmm. The moment you walked into the Precinct I knew you were gonna be the death of me." Hank mumbled in reply, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses along the man's collarbone as he spoke. "You know how much I fuckin' hated you from the moment you walked into my life, and you still shoved your way in. No-one's ever cared enough to be that persistent." 

"I know I shouldn't be thankful for that, but I am" Connor mused, humming with satisfaction as Hank's lips tightened on the skin at the base of his neck. "I don't think I want to share you with _anyone_." 

"You won't have to." Hank growled, flipping their positions, pushing Connor deeper into the mattress before diving down and capturing his lips. "Tell me you're mine." 

Connor moaned under him and nodded. "I'm _yours_. I'll never be anyone but yours, Hank." 

God, you're fuckin' beautiful." He whispered as another soft moan escaped the androids lips. "I wanna devour every inch of you." 

The last of Connor's clothes fell discarded to the floor, and Hank lapped up the sight before him, hoping he could commit every inch of him to memory. 

_\- -_

"So, what _is_ this? I know to you it's probably obvious with that brain of yours, but you know I've gotta ask." Hank's voice was barely a whisper as he trailed his fingers along the arch of his back. 

"Did I not make myself clear last night?" Connor replied, shuddering ever so slightly under the touch. The feeling of the edge of Hank's nails grazing his skin was thrilling, his touch exhilarating. 

"Maybe" he murmered, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe I just wanna hear you say it again. Just to make sure I wasn't so caught up in the moment that I misheard 'ya." He nuzzled his head into the crook of Connor's neck and he couldn't help but feel he could stay like this forever. 

_\- - -_

"Hank. Ah, I need to...tell you something." Connor stammered under shaky breath. They were both completely exposed to one another now - no more secrets, no more hiding. Connor figured he should be honest now that they'd bared all physically. That was what people did, wasn't it? 

"Mhm. In a bit." The other man grumbled as he continued to do things that Connor had never imagined he would find pleasurable. Left with nothing but online research and no first hand experience, he was pleasantly surprised to discover everything he'd watched and read did not come _remotely_ close to these experiences with Hank. 

"It's _important_ " he all but whined, pushing Hank's body over to the side so that they lay side by side facing one another. 

It wasn't just the physicality of it, no. What Connor's research had failed to capture was the sheer magnitude of feeling that came from someone's affection returned. While he couldn't deny that these intimate moments were certainly exhilirating, it was the feeling of being here with him, in this moment, sharing this deep love for one another, that made Connor feel like his Thirium pump could burst at any moment. 

He'd spent so long, so many months contemplating the possible outcomes if he told Hank how he felt. There was the embarrassment, the seething disgust, the general disinterest, and the acceptance. That last option - the one he desired the most - was fuzzy in his mind; at times it seemed so unfathomable that he barely even considered it to be a potential outcome. Even now, in Hank's arms, naked in his bed, he found himself concerned with the idea that this may be a one-time thing; a way to curb some momentary feelings of lust, to satisfy the itch. What if he awoke in the morning to find that was simply all it was - a blip, a lapse in judgement on the part of the Lieutenant that he'd come to feel ashamed of. Perhaps they'd never even speak of it again, and things would go back to the way they'd always been. Connor wasn't sure what he'd do if that happened. 

"Earth to Connor! You in there?" He was roused from his musings by a sharp tap on his forehead. Hank eyed him curiously, head tilted to the side, analysing his likely gormless expression. 

"Sorry, Hank." He stammered. 

"You wanted to tell me something." His voice seeped into his audio sensors with tones of such timidness and reservation it was a wonder he'd even heard him at all - to a human, perhaps it would have come across as a whisper. But Connor was not human. 

"I...I don't know how to say it." 

"Well..." A hand came to rest on his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into his artificial skin "You don't need to rush. Take your time." Hank shot him the most endearing, warm smile and all of Connor's nerves slipped away. It was now or never. 

"I love you, Hank. I'm _in love_ with you." He inhaled sharply before speaking again, despite not having the respiratory functions necessary to be short of breath. "I think I have been for some time. And I know for you this could just be...well, perhaps its curiosity on your part, or a means to an end. But for me there's finality to this. If we cross this bridge, I don't think I can go back as though nothing has happened. I love you so much I sometimes find myself struggling to breathe, even though that's such an illogical, incomprehensible feeling for an android. I want to have a life with you, and if you're going to wake up in the morning and decide this isn't for you I don't know...I don't know what I'll do." 

Connor's head shot up to the ceiling above him and he closed his eyes, taking deep breaths as the silence in the room threatened to engulf him. Is this what it felt like to be rejected? To have your heart broken? Every millisecond that went by felt like _agony_. 

"Connor." 

His eyes remained firmly shut. He knew if he looked at Hank, saw the disappointment in his eyes he'd fall apart. 

"Connor, baby. _Look at me_." 

As he turned his head downwards and allowed his eyes to open, he was met with the soft, caring eyes of Hank, a wholly unfiltered, joyful smile spread across his cheeks. He could even see the rarely spotted gap between his teeth, something he knew the man was self-conscious of but a feature that Connor adored. His hands reached for him, large palms cupping his cheeks and Connor allowed himself to lean into the touch. 

"I love you Connor. I love you so damn much." 

If Connor had been human, he would have felt all of the air leave his lungs at the admission - but he was an android, so instead he muttered 'thank _fuck_ ' under his breath, sending Hank into a fit of hearty laughter as their bodies met with furious passion. 

_\- -_

"I love you, Hank. I want to be with you. I want to share a life with you, for as long as you'll let me. I'm fairly sure I've already explained all of this." 

Hank smirked back at him. "That's never gonna get old." 

"It might." Connor murmered, returning a timid smile. 

" _Never._ " Hank retorted, ruffling playfully through the man's hair. The android looked at him expectantly before he finally replied "And yeah, I love you too, you gorgeous fuckin' idiot I figured a highly-advanced android brain like yours could have probably figured it out before I did." 

Connor grinned at him, and Hank couldn't help but feel like he'd been given a second chance. This mesmerising, intelligent, slightly goofy man had experienced horrors unimaginable. He was kind, an curious, and far too attractive for his own good, and yet he'd chosen Hank. Of all the people in the world. After all the things he'd seen. Him. 

He loved Connor, and Connor loved him in return. This intelligent man had lived as a slave, had finally gained his humanity, and when given the freedom to choose - against all odds, he'd chosen to be with Hank. He couldn't understand it, but like hell was he gonna spend anymore time worrying about that choice when it wasn't his to make. 

Hank pulled him into a passionate kiss, filled with desire and affection and as much love as he could give - and more, he hoped. Connor reprociated with enthusiasm, smiling against his lips as his delicate fingers found their way threading through his hair. 

" _Stay._ " Hank murmered against the man's velveteen lips. "I don't want you to leave. Ever." 

Then I won't" the android rasped, breath hot against his cheek, and there was that fuckin' smile again, like Hank had just told him Santa was real or something. 

As he looked into the androids eyes - _human_ eyes, he thought, no different to his own - he imagined a life together with Connor. He imagined he'd over indulge Sumo with treats when he wasn't looking, yet would no doubt lecture him on what the dog _ought_ to be eating for his breed and age. Evenings indoors cooking dinner, watching old re-runs of his favourite shows (because he just _knew_ Connor wouldn't have watched The Sopranos), reading together on the couch on quiet afternoons. They'd work together to complete Connor's list, adding to it whenever the android had bursts of inspiration - he wondered what hobby's he'd want to try, what new things the man would discover, and he couldn't wait to share them with him. He pictured lazy mornings like this in bed, snuggled in one another's arms, his heart filled with a warmth he'd doomed himself to never feel again until Connor had entered his life. 

Hank smiled. He could get used to this. He could _definitely_ get used to this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Drumrolls* And that's the end!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading - thank you so much for taking the time to read, comment, share kudos, thoughts and more. I really appreciate the support and I've loved having chats with you all about this fascinating ship. 
> 
> This definitely won't be my last HankCon adventure, but for now I need to complete my two desperately unloved Reylo fics. In the meantime, feel free to follow me on Tumblr if you don't already - IntraSomnium 💕


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